Resurgence
by RLD Flame-point Callie-co
Summary: After Edward leaves Forks, Claire and Peter move in...changing Bella's life, and theirs, in ways none of them ever imagined. New Moon, Eclipse & S3: Villains AU, eventual Bella/Peter & vampire involvement, but no Cullens. *Edited 5/31/2012*
1. Rude Awakening

**Hi everyone! I know it's not a good idea to start a new story when I'm in the middle of another one, but I've had the idea for mixing Twilight and Heroes rattling around in my head for a while now, and I figured when I got to the point of planning out actual dialogue, I had no choice but to start writing. This is my first attempt at a crossover, as well as my first shot at a non-Bella-and-Edward fic, so I really want to know what you think. I'll take any advice or constructive criticism; I'd prefer not to be flamed, and I intend to ignore those if I do get any. Here's a special thanks to my friend twilighter616 for reading my first draft of this story and encouraging me to keep going!**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN TWILIGHT OR HEROES. I've also done a search of fanfiction, and I'm 98% sure this story isn't similar to anyone else's; if it is it's an accident, 'cause I'm no copycat. All insane ideas are mine.**

Resurgence: an instance of rising again, as if from death; resurrection, rebirth, or revival

Chapter 1: Rude Awakening

_Bella POV_

I was halfway through poking cereal into my mouth and not tasting a bite of it when Charlie's persistent throat-clearing finally made me aware that he was in the room. I raised my head and returned his scrutinizing stare with my dull, lifeless one. "What is it, Dad? It's Saturday; why aren't you out fishing with Deputy Mark or somebody?"

He shifted nervously in his chair. "I'm here because I want to talk to you, Bella. I really wish you'd reconsider moving to Jacksonville with Renee. Now, I know you want to stay here, but I just can't see letting you do this to yourself anymore. Maybe it would do you some good to get away from here, get away from things that remind you of Ed-"

"Dad, stop it," I said sharply; my survival instinct demanded that I shut him up before he finished saying the one name I couldn't stand to hear, the one that caused me unendurable pain every time I came close to thinking it. "Getting out of Forks won't do me any good."

"Well if that won't, what will? Bella, he's not coming back and you can't live the rest of your life like this waiting for him!"

"I'm not waiting for anything," I mumbled to the tabletop. "I know nothing's going to change. I don't expect it to."

"Then I don't see why you won't even-"

"I have to go. I'm late for work." I grabbed the keys to my truck and hurried out the door before Charlie could say anything else. I had lied about being late; I got there five minutes before my shift started, but I went on in. Sitting alone in my truck with just my thoughts for company was too depressing, and I needed all the distraction I could get.

"Hey, Bella. Glad you made it," Mike called, waving at me from behind the checkout counter as I walked into Newton's Olympic Outfitters.

"Hi, Mike," I answered, just like I did every Saturday afternoon when he greeted me that way. I didn't know why he always said he was glad I made it; I made it every weekend, with the single exception of that week six months ago- the week right after _he_ left me.

I felt a sharp, ripping pain in my chest at the mere thought of that memory, and wrapped my arms around my torso to try to keep myself together. "Bella, are you all right?" Mike asked, leaving the cash register wide open as he ran over to make sure I wasn't having a heart attack.

"I'm fine," I lied. "Did the new shipment of water-resistant backpacks come in today?"

Mike stared hard at me, seeing if he agreed that I was fine, so I forced my face into the best approximation of a smile I could manage these days. As far as anyone could tell just from looking at me there was nothing wrong, so Mike gave in and sent me to the back supply room to unpack the backpacks.

I was robotically putting the new stock on the shelves when a strange feeling penetrated my numbness- a feeling like someone was watching me. I turned around, and there was a man leaning against the shelf on the opposite side of the aisle, staring at me. For some reason, his intense gaze made me uncomfortable.

"Can I help you with something?" I asked politely; although I didn't like the way he was looking at me, this was a store and I was an employee here, so it was entirely possible that he needed help finding something but had decided to wait for me to finish what I was doing rather than interrupt me.

"Yes, if you could just point me in the right direction," he paused to check my name tag, "Bella. I was wondering where the tents are."

"Um, sure, right this way." I led him to the right place and pointed out what Mike had mentioned was the most durable model.

As I started to walk back to the rack I had been filling he asked, "What's your last name, Bella?"

_Why does he want to know that? Maybe he's just trying to be polite… but I wish he'd stop. _The whole time we were walking to the tent aisle, he had never stopped staring at me, and there was something unsettling about the look in his dark brown eyes. It was almost like he was hungry and I was a chocolate torte, and I didn't like it one bit. The idea that he thought of me as some kind of food reminded me too much of someone else for whom I'd been a potential meal, and I couldn't stand to have him brought to the front of my mind.

"Bella? Did you hear me?" the man asked.

"I heard you," I muttered. "My last name's Swan." Even if I didn't like his apparent interest in me, I couldn't be rude to a customer if I wanted to keep my job.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Bella Swan." The man grabbed my hand and shook it, gripping a little harder than I thought was necessary. "You've been very helpful."

"No problem." I pulled out of the handshake as quickly as possible and hurried down the aisle; once I reached the end I looked back and saw that the man wasn't comparing tents at all – he was still watching me. "Go away," I muttered as I headed back to the backpack display.

It was ironic; I had told Charlie that I didn't expect anything to change, and then something did. Until now, I had felt nothing but pain and the numbness I had sunk into to escape that pain, but now I felt something different: nervousness.

The way that man looked at me had really gotten under my skin; customers didn't normally care enough to find out my first name, they certainly never asked for my last name, and the hungry gleam in this customer's eyes as he watched every move I made would have disturbed me even if it hadn't brought to mind things I couldn't bear to think about.

"Bella, are you okay? You look upset," Mike said. I jumped – I hadn't noticed him walk up behind me.

"Oh, I'm- I'm fine, Mike, thanks. It's just this one guy I helped was looking at me funny, that's all."

Mike frowned. "It's all right, he's gone now," I said quickly.

"That's good. Tell me if he comes in again, and I'll take care of whatever he's here for."

"Thanks, Mike." I forced myself to smile at him. Mike really was a nice guy, and I wished I could be a better friend to him. It was just so impossible to muster any enthusiasm for anything now that I imagined he wouldn't like hanging out with me even if I did agree to.

Mike and I both went back to work, and two hours later we closed up shop. "Bye Bella," Mike called as he hopped in his Suburban and drove off.

I waved, then headed for my old truck, but before I reached it something stopped me in my tracks. I couldn't explain it; it was like my feet just froze and I fell forward, thrown off balance.

"Hello Bella; I thought that guy would never leave. It's lucky for him that he did though, and for me; now I can forget about dealing with him and skip straight to what I came for."

I shuddered; the voice was one I'd heard before. I twisted my head to look behind me, and there was the creepy guy who had stared at me this afternoon. "What do you want? I don't have any money!" I cried.

He chuckled quietly. "That's not what I want from you, Bella Swan." He grabbed my arm, hauled me off the ground, and slammed me against my truck.

_Oh no, I can't believe this is happening! _It was like a repeat of that horrible night in Port Angeles, but there was no one to save me this time. The one person I used to depend on to save me was gone, the parking lot was deserted, and there was no help coming.

The man didn't physically assault me, though; instead he raised his free hand, the index finger pointing at my forehead, and traced a line through the air. I had a split second of wondering what he was doing before a terrible pain hit my forehead, as if my head was being cut open.

I screamed in pain, and then in shock as I felt warm liquid run down my face and smelled the nauseating scent of blood – mine!

**This story probably won't be updated for a while because as I said at the beginning, I have another one going and need to work on it; I just wanted to get this one up before someone else did something like it. But if you like this one and want more (if anyone does), leaving reviews will definitely encourage me to get going on the next chapter.**


	2. Bella's New Heroes

**Well, I've updated my other story since I started this one, and when I read through the great reviews the first chapter got, I decided I owe you guys a new one. I have to say, I'm really impressed with all the reviews; I wasn't sure anyone would want to read this, and I was going to scrap it if it got mostly negative reviews or none at all, but thanks to you I'm going to keep working on it – give yourselves a well-deserved pat on the back!**

Chapter 2: Bella's New Heroes

I had never really believed that stuff about your life flashing before your eyes when you die, so what happened next took me by surprise. As I stared through a haze of blood and agony at the man who was slicing into my forehead, his face faded and blurred and became another face, the one I had simultaneously forbidden myself to remember and struggled not to forget.

_Edward Cullen. _At the instant his name broke through the barriers I had carefully constructed to keep out the pain that thinking of him brought on, I knew it was all over – because thinking his name, seeing his face, didn't hurt at all. I realized what that meant. It no longer mattered if I thought of Edward, because I wouldn't have to live with my pain anymore. In a moment, the cut would go through my skin to my skull and once that was broken, it would all be over; I was about to die.

Edward met my gaze with a sad, distant smile, and my heart wrenched at the thought that I would soon leave the world he inhabited. _I'm sorry, _I told him. _I kept my promise – nothing stupid or reckless, ever. I guess I'm still a danger magnet, though. Goodbye, Edward, I love you._

He disappeared then, and the pain in my forehead came flooding back as my legs folded under me and I hit the cold, hard asphalt of the parking lot outside Newton's; the force holding me upright was gone. I lay there, trembling and stunned, but not numb. My protective shell of numbness was broken; I was more alert than I'd been in months.

I felt the warm wetness of blood dripping down my face and the pain of shredded nerve endings from my cut skin, but I was no longer _being_ cut. The man had stopped before he killed me… or someone else had stopped him. Thanks to my new alertness, I picked up the sound of somebody landing a good punch and a pair of angry voices, but I couldn't understand what they were saying.

My head hurt terribly, making it impossible to focus on anything else. All I could do was press the cut against the cold ground and hope the voices belonged to someone who would help me before I bled to death.

The end of my numbness also renewed the throbbing of the hole in my chest, and for a split second it occurred to me that death would be a relief. But I quickly dispelled that notion; bleeding enough to die, or even lose consciousness, might take hours, and I couldn't take this agony that long. Besides, what would it do to Charlie if I died and my body was discovered here when Mrs. Newton came to open the store tomorrow? No, I didn't want to die like this.

I tried to call for help, but when I opened my mouth no sound came out; it felt like the part of my brain that sent commands to my muscles had quit functioning. I could hear things and form semi-coherent thoughts, but except for the tremors tearing through me, I couldn't get myself to move.

As I tried to regain some control over my body, I sensed someone approaching, and then fingers that felt very warm against my freezing skin were wiping at the blood in my eyes and shaking my shoulder. "Hey, wake up! Come on, he can't have had time to cut that deep, you can't be dead – wake up, please!"

I dimly recognized the voice as one of the angry ones I heard when my attacker was interrupted, only it sounded worried instead of angry now. Forcing my eyelids open, which was easier since the blood had been wiped off, I saw a girl crouched over me. She looked panicked, although I could have been misreading her expression – the sun had almost completely set, and darkness fell fast thanks to the cloud cover.

The girl breathed a sigh of relief when I opened my eyes and smiled. "You're safe now, you'll be okay," she said; it sounded like she was trying to reassure herself as much as me. I wasn't sure if I believed her or not, it had been so long since I'd been anywhere close to okay; for the past six months, okay and I weren't even in the same zip code. The girl was talking again, and I made myself focus on what she was saying. "Here, let's get you off the ground; it must be cold down there."

She was right, I was still shivering uncontrollably and my teeth were beginning to chatter. "Do you need help?" she asked. I managed to nod, and she gripped under my arms and tried to pull me up. Independent movement was still beyond me, making me a limp dead weight, so the best she could do was get me into a sitting position and prop me up against the rear tire of my truck.

"I'm sorry," she huffed, "you're too heavy for me. Just wait right here for a minute, and I'll get help, all right?" I didn't bother to nod – it made my head hurt worse and if she wanted me to wait, it wasn't like I had much choice.

The girl straightened up and called, "Peter, aren't you done yet? I need help with her."

"Just a second, Claire… There, I think that's everything; we should be fine now. What were you saying?"

The girl, who I now knew was called Claire, sounded impatient when she answered. "_The girl we came here to help_, Peter! She's bleeding all over the place and can't seem to move on her own, and I couldn't get her up, and… would you just get over here and do something?"

"Okay, okay, calm down! If the girl's still alive, I'll see what I can do for her – but go get a flashlight out of the car; it's too damn dark out here."

Claire hurried away, presumably to her and Peter's car, and he walked to my truck and crouched next to me where she had been a minute ago. It was too dark to really see what he looked like, but he seemed older than Claire, maybe because he was calmer. He pushed my hair back and pressed his fingertips to my forehead, making me whimper.

"Relax, I'm not hurting you. I know this doesn't feel good, but I've had worse. I'm Peter, by the way. Can you tell me your name?"

He was the second stranger to ask for my name today, which sparked a hint of the nervousness from this afternoon, but I told him anyway; it didn't look like he intended to hurt me. "I-I'm Bella S-Swan," I stuttered through my chattering teeth.

Claire appeared behind him. "I got the flashlight."

"Point it at her forehead," Peter instructed. "I don't feel any breaks in her skull, but I want to see how bad this cut is – she's bled a lot."

I squeezed my eyes shut against the blinding glare of the flashlight and heard Claire suck her breath in sharply when she saw the amount of blood on my face. Peter, on the other hand, seemed totally unfazed by it, and I wondered if that had anything to do with what he'd said about having had worse. "We need to get this cleaned off; I can't even see the cut under all this blood. Claire, go get that first aid kit Noah insisted on putting in the car before we left; looks like we found a use for it after all."

Claire scurried off on her second fetching assignment of the evening, and Peter turned back to me. "Okay Bella, you don't have anything worse than a flesh wound, and sitting on this cold asphalt isn't helping you, so I'm going to get you up, okay?"

"Ok-kay," I agreed. Peter slid his hands under my arms the same way Claire had, but he evidently had better muscles than her because he had no problem heaving me to my feet. Unfortunately, my knees shook so badly that I probably couldn't stay there by myself, so he had to hold me up. "Why c-can't I st-"

"Stand up on your own? You're having a mild case of shock, and you need to warm up. Do you mind if I put you in your truck, since we're closer to it?"

"S-S-Sure, it's unl-locked. Go ah-head."

Peter pushed me onto the truck's seat, and I managed to get the key out of my pocket and hand it to him so he could turn on the heater. I wrapped my arms around myself and huddled close to the air vents, waiting for my shivering to subside; Peter leaned against the open door rather than getting inside with me. Apparently the cold wasn't getting to him – but then, he wasn't the one in shock.

I wanted to say something, maybe ask where he and Claire had come from since I'd never seen either of them before, and they didn't look like the typical backpacking tourists of Forks. He, however, didn't seem at all inclined to talk to me; in fact, he wasn't even looking at me, and in another minute Claire came running back with the first aid kit, effectively killing my chance of talking to her companion.

"What took you so long?" Peter asked, a little sharply.

"Hey, it's not my fault that there's still a ton of junk in our car and the first aid stuff got shoved all the way to the back of the trunk," Claire protested. "You were the one who said we'd never need it, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember, but when will you learn not to pay attention to everything I say?"

Peter cleaned my face with antiseptic wash and then examined the cut. "How b-bad is it?" I asked apprehensively.

"It could be worse, trust me. The bleeding's almost stopped and the incision's very thin, so it won't scar. You could probably even get by without stitches if you don't want to go to the hospital."

"I don't," I said quickly. "Please, I j-just want to g-go home."

Peter nodded and taped a blood-absorbing cotton pad over the cut. "How does that feel?"

"Better."

"Good, now the only problem is getting you home. I'm not sure you're okay to drive yet."

Claire, who had watched silently while Peter took care of my sliced forehead, spoke up. "We can take you home, if you want. One of us could drive your truck, and the other one could bring our car so we don't have to walk home… but we don't know where you live, so you'd have to give us directions."

"I can do that," I said, pleased to notice that my teeth weren't chattering anymore. "Thank you, I don't know if I'd be able to keep the truck on the road. Is this all right with you, Peter?"

Claire and I both looked at him to see what he thought; maybe the lack of decent light was causing me to see his face wrong, but it looked like he was frowning. "It's fine with me. Claire, you go with her in her truck, and I'll follow you in our car." Claire handed over the key she had used to get into the trunk, and Peter walked off without another word.

I scooted over to the passenger side of the seat, and Claire climbed in behind the wheel. "You have to hit the gas kind of hard," I warned her. "My truck's seen better days."

Claire got the truck going without much trouble and I told her which way to go as she pulled out of the parking lot. "Do you live very far from here?" she asked.

"Not that far. Thank you so much for driving me home, and for helping me back there. I don't know what would have happened if you and Peter hadn't come along. That man…"

Claire's hands tightened convulsively on the wheel and I was almost positive I saw her scowl fiercely at the mention of my attacker. "Don't worry about him anymore, Bella. He's _not_ coming back here." Her voice held an almost angry undercurrent, and I found myself wondering: improbable as it seemed, did she somehow know the man who attacked me tonight?

She, that man, and Peter had all appeared in Forks on the same day, one to hurt me and the other two to rescue me, and it seemed unlikely that all that could be nothing more than a coincidence. _But that has to be all it is, just a string of random events. What more _could_ it be?_

**I was going to have this chapter include Bella getting home and trying to explain her injury to Charlie, but after writing all this I decided it was long enough and I would end it here. I hope it's okay; at least I got in Peter and Claire! I think they're two of Heroes' coolest characters even though I don't always agree with the choices they make. Thanks again for the comments and encouragement on this story.**


	3. Just a Coincidence?

**I've finally finished rewriting this story (rewriting, but not typing, so don't think I'm holding out on you) and I'm sorry for leaving it hanging so long. At least now that I've decided on a new direction – which I like much better – for it, updates might be more frequent! **

**Now, I have a little challenge for you: a few lines in this chapter are taken straight from Twilight and New Moon (besides the famous line 'it will be as if I'd never existed'), and I want to see if anyone can spot them. Anyone who finds one or more can ask me any question about the story or get a preview of future chapters – that is the normal reward for getting this kind of challenge, isn't it? I don't care if you check the books, but you only get one guess and you have to tell me whether you want a preview or a question answered, okay? **

Chapter 3: Just a Coincidence?

Claire and I spent the rest of the ride to my house in relative silence, except when she asked for directions and I supplied them; she didn't seem to want to talk anymore after I brought up the strange man, and I didn't feel up to trying to start a conversation. That was no surprise, really – I'd been in a fog for several months, so I guessed it was natural to need some time to adjust now that everything had changed. Not that I wanted this change.

I wanted to be numb again, because feeling nothing at all was the only way I had survived this long… but it was gone. Whatever it was that had happened tonight – and whether it was the pain of having my head cut open, my hallucination when I'd thought I was dying, or the shock of my unexpected rescue that was responsible – it had woken me up. _Great, I can feel again! But what do I do now? Nothing's changed; _he_ still doesn't want me, and I still see no point to living without him. I'd have been better off if that guy had killed me after all. _I started to drown in my misery again, the way I had the night he left, but I was interrupted.

"Hey, I think we've made it to your street. Which house do you live in?"

"Huh?"

The truck slowed as Claire looked across the seat at me. "Bella, are you still with me? I said, which of these houses is yours? This _is_ the right street, isn't it?"

"Oh, right; yes, this is my street. I live right down there." I pointed out my house. Claire nodded and sped up again.

As we pulled into the driveway she remarked, "I see somebody's already home."

Sure enough, Charlie's cruiser was in its customary spot. "Darn, he'll want to know why I was out so late," I muttered. "And he'll want to know about this." I touched my bandaged forehead. "Well, I'd better go face the music."

"Good luck with that."

"Yeah, thanks – for everything." We got out of the truck, Claire headed for the car where her friend was waiting for her, and after five seconds' hesitation I followed. "Hey, wait a minute!" Claire turned back and Peter got out of the car – just in time to see me trip over my own feet and fall, probably bruising my butt. "Ouch! Dang it."

"You need some help?" I looked up to see Peter holding out his hand; I took it and he pulled me off the ground for the second time tonight.

"Thanks, again."

"Don't mention it; but try not to fall down again, all right?"

"Yeah, I'll try not to." _Not that it'll do any good, _I silently added.

"Now, what were you gonna say before you tripped?"

"I, um, I wanted to ask if you – both of you – wanted to come in, you know, before you left," I stammered, blushing. _Oh, crap! _Another reason to miss being a zombie: at least embarrassing situations didn't make zombies flush tomato-red. "It's just that my dad's a cop, and he'll have lots of questions about- about what happened…and so do I."

"Ask away," said Claire, making me jump; I hadn't noticed her come back around from her side of the car until she was right behind me. "Although it's hard to see how you would have questions; you were there for the whole thing, weren't you?"

I couldn't tell if she was making fun of me or not, but I ploughed on. "When the man gave me this cut, I know he had to cut me _with something_…but I could have sworn I didn't see a knife…" I trailed off and looked from one to the other, searching for some confirmation that I wasn't completely insane.

Neither of them said anything, and I took their silence as an indication that I should go on, despite the steadily growing feeling that I was being ridiculous. "And then there was the guy himself; he waited until Mike left before jumping me, and he said it was lucky that I was alone so he could 'skip straight to what he came for'. It was like he was there for me, specifically – but why would anyone want to hurt _me_? What possible reason would someone I've never seen before have for trying to kill me? And he-he said he wanted something from me; what did that mean?"

"You can't think of anything, any way you're different from other people – special?" Peter asked, staring at me like he was trying to see through me.

I paled at the question and was relieved that it was too dark for him to see. Of course there was nothing _special_ about me, but I could think of one way I was _different_. Out of the whole population of Forks, I was the only one who knew about vampires; I had even dated one, dreamed of becoming one! Did my being attacked have something to do with _them_? It seemed highly unlikely – more than unlikely, impossible; but it was the only thing I could think of that might make the man target me rather than anyone else.

And what about Peter and Claire? It had struck me as a huge coincidence that two strangers would show up at exactly the right time and place to save me from another stranger – too much of a coincidence. But if their timely arrival _was_ preplanned, then why? Where were they in all this; and what was 'all this' anyway? I needed time alone to figure this out, and that meant it was time to say goodbye to my new friends, if they really were friends; I could handle Charlie myself.

"No, I really can't think of anything; I'm just like any other Forks resident. Look, I really need to go in now-"

"You won't mind if we pass on going with you, will you?"

"No – like I said, my dad's a cop; if he has any questions for you I'm sure he can find a phone number or something. Thanks again, and bye. See you around." I hurried toward my house.

Predictably, Charlie stepped between me and the stairs the minute I made it through the door. "Where have you been?" he demanded, crossing his arms. "I've been on the phone with the Newtons for the last fifteen minutes trying to figure out why you didn't come home when you were supposed to. All Mike could say was that the store closed up at the regular time and the last time he saw you, you were heading for your truck! I almost went crazy worrying until I heard you pull up, and- What happened to your head?" he interrupted himself as he caught sight of my bandage.

"It was this guy-"

"What guy?"

"I don't know, it was someone I've never seen until today, okay? He came into the store while I was working – I thought he was just a customer; he asked me to show him where the tents were – but the whole time he gave me this weird look-" I shivered, "-and then after Mike and I closed up, he waited until Mike was gone and then he came up behind me and attacked me." I tried to report the incident calmly, but my voice still shook at the end of my sentence.

Charlie's eyes actually bugged out and his face went purple as he came closer and grabbed my shoulders. "Attacked you how?" he pressed.

"He just pushed me up against my truck and he- he cut me. That's what happened to my head."

"Thank goodness you're all right," Charlie said, pulling me into a hug that squeezed the air from my lungs. Then he let go and asked, "But how'd you get away? This creep just pulled out a knife, slashed your forehead and then walked off?"

"No, that's not how it happened." For one thing, there had been no knife, I was sure of that – but telling Charlie that the man cut me without the use of any sharp instrument would make me sound like a prime candidate for institutionalization. "I think he intended to give me a lot more than just this cut, but a couple of people came along and stopped him, and bandaged up my forehead."

"Who were these people?"

"I've never seen them before today either, and I didn't see them very well tonight because it had gotten dark, but it was a girl that I think might've been around the same age as me and a guy who seemed a bit older than her; other than that I really can't say much except that their names are Peter and Claire. And no, I didn't catch their last names."

"Hmm, I don't know anyone by those names either. I wonder if they were just passing through, or-"

"They didn't look like the hikers or fishermen who usually pass through Forks, Dad," I interrupted, "And neither did the other guy. Even if they were just tourists, everything had already closed; why would they have been hanging around the stores if nothing was open?"

"That is strange," Charlie mused. "But if they're not from around here, maybe they just didn't know it was past closing time. Still, lucky for you that they didn't, eh?"

"Yeah, lucky," I agreed with a weak grin. "Look, I feel like I really need a shower, and I'm not hungry; can you handle dinner tonight?"

"Bells, I fed myself for seventeen years before you got here," he reminded me. "Just one more thing before you go up – you said the guy that mugged you came in while Newton's was open; any chance you could tell me what he looked like?"

"Yeah, he had dark brown spiky hair, dark eyes, _really_ thick eyebrows, and he hadn't shaved in a few days. He looked scary – really scary." Thinking about him made me shiver again, and Charlie decided to forego further interrogation and let me go to bed.

I brushed my teeth and showered quickly, then lay in bed and stared at the ceiling as I tried to make sense of tonight's strange events. Though Peter hadn't actually said anything about vampires, he _had_ asked if there was anything that made me different from everyone else in Forks and, try as I might, I couldn't come up with anything other than my previous involvement with the…with them.

But how could my romantic history have led to some maniac trying to cut my head open? Was he some kind of vampire-hater? Even if he was, what was the point in attacking me when my vampire friends had left and taken all traces of their existence with them, never to return? _It will be as if I'd never existed, _my memory quoted at me, sending pain ripping through my chest.

_Must think about something else! _I cast about for something else to think about, and my mind landed on my mysterious rescuers. If the villain of the piece was an anti-vampire maniac, where did that leave Peter and Claire? I was sure all three of them were human; Mr. Head Slicer definitely was, and neither of the other two had felt cold when I touched them or shown the slightest sign of being bothered by my bleeding… I remembered all too clearly how the vampires had reacted when I gave myself a paper cut, and I had bled much more tonight…

I stopped myself there; I had hurt enough for one night, and I was straying into memories that would only bring me more pain. Thinking about all this was pointless anyway. _Everything that happened tonight was just a weird one-time occurrence, nothing more. I doubt I'll ever see any of them again, so why waste time worrying about it? And even if that man does belong to some psycho vampire-hating cult, it's not like he could pose any threat to them; they left a fake trail when they moved out, and he's just a man – a creepy man who I'm pretty sure cut me without actually touching me – but still just a human. He's no more powerful than any other human… _And with that comforting thought, I rolled onto my side, curled into a ball, and quickly fell asleep.

###

Sunday passed uneventfully; Charlie made me stay inside while he and the rest of the Forks police force – all three of them – scoured the area for my would-be scalper, so I just reread a few of my favorite books and tried, with varying levels of success, to put last night out of my mind. It was hard, especially now that I was fully alert; I kept expecting, or maybe hoping irrationally was a better term, for something else to happen, anything to distract me from the monotonous, bleak emptiness that my life had become.

When Charlie came home and reported that the Forks Police Department had had no luck, I wasn't surprised, but I did feel a tiny twinge of disappointment. _Stop it right now, _I mentally chided myself, _it's not worth being scalped just to have a _distraction_. That's not only insane, it's unhealthy and pathetic. I am not that desperate… am I? _No, I couldn't be; yes, I was. I struggled with this paradox for the rest of the day and well into the night. When I finally got to sleep, my mind presented me with a whirlwind of confusing dreams from which I awoke feeling like I'd been running all night.

I dragged myself to the kitchen to find Charlie waiting for me at the table. "What is it?" I asked grumpily. "You're not about to say you don't want me leaving the house to go to school until you catch the guy, are you? I told you, he's probably long gone by now."

"Of course you can go to school," Charlie said; of course he wouldn't want to interfere with my education. "You should be perfectly safe there, but I want you to stick with the other kids, okay Bells? Don't go wandering off by yourself, make sure you're in your truck with the doors locked before everyone else leaves, and keep this somewhere you can reach it fast." He set a can of pepper spray in front of my Pop Tart.

"Sure thing, Dad, but you know they won't let me take it inside the school building." I tucked the can into my bag.

"Right. You just- just watch out for yourself, all right? I don't know what I would've done if…well, if something worse had happened to you."

I was touched. "I love you too, Dad," I said, giving him a quick hug on my way to the sink. He looked embarrassed and cleared his throat loudly, and my mouth curled into my first genuine smile in months, though it was short-lived. Anxiety over how much gossip would be circulating over my Saturday night misadventure was enough to extinguish any brief flash of happiness and replace it with a sensation that made me feel like I had a ball of snakes squirming in my gut.

###

Checking my forehead in the rearview mirror before venturing out of my truck, I was relieved to see that my cut was completely closed. True to Peter's prediction, it had healed perfectly without stitches; there was nothing left now but a thin red line which would fade soon. I could only hope it wouldn't draw too much attention to me while it remained.

When I entered my first class, I discovered that I wouldn't have to deal with half as many rumors as I'd feared. Thanks to Charlie having called the Newtons, of course some people were discussing what may or may not have happened to worry him, and a few relatives of the deputies were tossing around absurd stories about my attacker; however, I wasn't the only topic of gossip, because apparently Forks High had a new student.

During my first two classes, I realized that my months as a zombie had made me virtually invisible to teachers and classmates alike – everyone's eyes slid past my desk as if it weren't even there. This invisibility, though disconcerting, allowed me to gather a few tidbits of information about the new addition to our student body. The new arrival was a girl, had most likely moved into a large old house on the opposite side of town from mine which had been empty ever since the old lady who used to live there had been moved into an assisted living facility by her son (who had then needed several weeks to re-home her feline menagerie), lived with her uncle (sparking wild speculation about her parents' whereabouts), and was described by one boy as 'seriously hot'.

I looked for the new girl, but never actually saw her until lunch. I was heading for my usual table when I noticed that Lauren was sitting next to a girl I was sure I'd never seen around school before. The boy's assessment of her had been right on; with her long blonde hair, blue eyes, and light tan, she was very pretty. _Exactly what people expected me to be when I moved here from Phoenix, _I mused. I shouldn't have stared at her, but there was something oddly familiar about her that made it impossible to look away.

Just as I left the lunch line with my tray, the girl spoke for the first time, and her voice was also familiar – even more than her appearance, so much so that I _knew_ I'd heard it before. But it couldn't be…

"Well, other than being nervous about starting a new school in the middle of the year, my first weekend in Forks wasn't really that exciting. I didn't really get out of the house much."

"Still, you must have done something other than unpack boxes," Lauren pressed her. "Come on and tell us, Claire."

Claire! I froze, my muscles locking up, and Lauren never found out what Claire did on her first weekend in Forks because she – and everyone else in the cafeteria – abandoned their conversations and swiveled in their seats to stare at me as my tray tilted forward in my rigid hands and sent my spaghetti, salad, and pink lemonade splattering all over the floor.

**LONG EXPLANATORY NOTE: For clarification's sake, let me assure you that Sylar ****isn't**** a vampire hunter; that was a mistaken conclusion drawn by Bella. Here's the reasoning: Bella thinks being with Edward was the only special thing that ever happened in her life, so when Peter asked if she was special in any way, that's what her mind jumped to. I think it's a logical assumption; given her frame of reference, what would she be most likely to think – that some vampire-hating cult member would want to kill her for having been with a vampire, or that Sylar would want to take her brain so he could acquire a power that she doesn't even know she has? And don't forget, she thought Sam was forming an anti-vampire cult in the real NM, so it doesn't seem far-fetched for her to think that in this story.**

**Also, when Peter asked if she was different, he wasn't trying to find out her dating history; he was actually trying to get her to tell him about her ability, or to think about it (since he has Matt's telepathy and doesn't know her mind's unreadable) so he could figure out if he'd just absorbed another volatile power like Ted's or Sylar's. As for what he and Claire are doing in Forks: all I'll say now is that it has to do with getting away from a certain group of season 3 bad guys. And in this fic Peter hasn't lost his powers, because I thought that was a lousy development in the storyline. **


	4. Revelations

**Congrats to Jane Irene Masen Cullen for finding the line from Twilight; I thought for sure I'd stump everyone, but she got it – you go Jane!**

**Thanks to Chickiibomb and celine-twilightadict for motivating me to get past my biology-test-stress-induced writer's block and to everyone for being so patient.**

**New challenge: I really wanna know if any of you catch the reference to the online Heroes comics in this chapter, so if you do tell me and I'll give you a preview of chapter 5. **

Chapter 4: Revelations

My face turned red as laughter broke out; a few people even clapped and whistled, and everyone who hadn't been close enough to get a good view of me dropping my food edged in to see the mess I'd made. Mr. Varner, who was on lunchroom duty, elbowed his way through the crowd, sent a student to get the janitor, and handed me several paper towels. "This floor needs mopping, but you may as well start cleaning up your mess, Miss Swan. And in the future, please save your performances for a more appropriate place."

Lauren snickered loudly; so did a few other kids, but I didn't see who because I was already on the floor with the paper towels, trying to pretend that spilt lemonade was the most interesting thing in the cafeteria.

In spite of this effort, my head snapped up when I heard Claire's voice again. "Hey, leave her alone – it's not like she dropped her lunch on purpose!" She'd gotten to her feet and was glaring at Mr. Varner, who looked startled for a second but quickly covered it with an unpleasant smile.

"How nice of you to take up for Miss Swan. Since you seem to be feeling generous, maybe you'd like to help her clean up, Miss-?"

"Bennet," she supplied defiantly, "and I'd be happy to." She marched over and dropped to her knees beside me. "Pass me a couple of those paper towels, Bella."

"Um, sure," I muttered, pushing a handful her way. Mr. Varner stalked off in a huff. Once he was gone I said, "Well, thanks. You can go finish eating now; I can handle this by myself."

Claire looked offended. "No way! I said I would help you, and that's what I'm doing. Unless you're dying to get rid of me."

"No, I didn't mean- Go ahead and stick around if you want." I resumed picking up stray noodles and lettuce leaves.

"Thanks, I _really_ don't wanna go back to that table."

"You don't?" I asked, surprised. "Why not?"

Claire lowered her voice. "Because I don't like Lauren; I just couldn't think of a not-totally-rude way to ditch her. Does that make me sound terrible?"

I ducked my head so she wouldn't see me grin. "No, I don't think you're terrible for wanting to get away from Lauren. She's not exactly my best friend, you know."

"Yeah, didn't sound like it. So who _is_ your best friend if it's not her?"

"Um…" I hesitated. I realized with a nasty sinking feeling that no one sprang to mind when I tried to think of my close friends; the people who used to be closest to me were gone, and after they left I'd eschewed any and all social interaction for so long that I doubted anyone felt particularly friendly toward me now. "I guess right now you are," I said to the floor. Claire's hand stopped in the middle of sweeping carrot slices into a pile, and my eyes moved up to her face; she was frowning.

"But we just met. Well, technically we met last Saturday, but the actual time we've spent together probably isn't even half an hour. And you don't know anything about me."

"That's not true. I know you saved my life, and you didn't have to – but you did anyway, _and_ drove me home. I also know that nobody else stuck up for me with Mr. Varner or volunteered to help me pick this food up." I waved a hand to indicate the absence of anyone other than Claire on the floor with me.

"You have a point there," she agreed. "So does this make me, like, your hero or something?"

I actually laughed at that – without even telling myself to! My eyes widened, but this wasn't unpleasant, just unexpected. "Yeah, okay, I guess you're my hero."

"Cool; and hey, looks like this is all the food." Claire put the sauce-saturated paper towel on my tray and took it to the trash can with me trailing after her. "Since lunch is about halfway over, wanna just have some of mine? I don't mind sharing."

"Okay, thanks." Claire and I went back to our table and found everyone there gawking at us.

I blushed, but Claire just raised an eyebrow. "What's everybody staring at?"

Jessica's mouth closed with an audible snap, and she stuttered, "I- we, uh, didn't realize you were…friends with Bella?"

"Well, like I said earlier, I met her last weekend, and she seems pretty cool to me." Lauren choked on a crouton when Claire said that, but Claire seemed not to notice. "You know what, Bella, this table looks pretty full – maybe we should finish lunch somewhere else." She grabbed my arm with the hand not holding her lunch tray and steered me outside; we ended up on a bench in front of the gym. "Is this okay? I know it's not as warm out here, but I needed a break. Those guys've had their eyes glued to me all day, and Lauren and Jessica keep grilling me for details of my life…"

"I know all about it – they were like that when I was new here, too. It's just because they don't get a lot of new kids here."

"So when they do the poor kid gets put under a microscope?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I know it's not fun, but I have to admit I'm glad you're around for them to focus on today. If you hadn't come to school today, they'd be asking me about what happened Saturday night."

Tension charged the air between us. I'd already brought this subject up by commenting on her having saved my life, but we'd both known we wouldn't discuss it with all those other kids close enough to eavesdrop. Out here, there was nothing stopping us – unless she didn't want to talk about it. I held my breath, waiting for her reaction.

"And if anyone had asked you about it…what would you tell them? What did you tell your dad, the cop?"

My breath _whoosh_ed back out. "I told him about the guy cutting me, and that you and Peter ran him off and took me home. He said he'd never heard of you, and he didn't think he needed to talk to you; I was able to tell him what the man looked like. But I doubt Charlie will find him – I don't think he's in Forks anymore. You told me he wasn't coming back-"

"And he's not," Claire said quickly. "You don't have to worry about seeing him again."

"But I still want to know what he was doing here in the first place. All of it – him walking into Newton's and deciding to attack _me_ out of all the people in that store, you getting there at exactly the right time to save me, and then ending up at my school – it all seems completely random, but I can't shake the feeling that it isn't! Am I losing it, or…?" _Or what? _

"You're not crazy, Bella. You might be better off if you were, but you're not." Claire's expression darkened pensively, but I was too excited at getting closer to the truth to wonder why.

"So if I'm not crazy, what's going on here?"

"This isn't a great place to have that conversation; there're things I have to show you-"

"What things? Where?" I asked eagerly.

"At my house. I'll tell you what – come with me after school, and I'll show you everything."

###

The last two classes of the day passed in a blur of anticipation; whatever went down at Claire's house this afternoon, at least it would – hopefully – put to rest my lingering doubts about my sanity. When the final bell rang at last, I hurried out to the parking lot to find Claire waiting. "I like your truck," she said with a grin. "It doesn't have one of those stupid alarms that go off when you lean on it."

"I'm surprised you recognize it; it was so dark the first time I saw you, I almost didn't recognize you in the cafeteria today."

Claire shrugged. "I recognized the engine when you drove in this morning – it's kind of loud. Anyway, I was waiting to tell you which car I drive; it's a black Dodge Charger." Noticing my confused look, she helpfully pointed to it. "That one."

"Thanks. I'm no car expert."

I followed Claire's Charger to her house, which, like mine, was on the outer edge of Forks with no close neighbors but still inside city limits, if only just. Once we were inside Claire called out, "Hey, Peter, are you here? I'm home, and I brought Bella with me!" There was no answer. "Huh, guess he's not around; you want a snack? We should have _something_ edible here…"

Most people took a while to stock their kitchens after moving to a new house, and Claire Bennet and Peter Whatever-His-Last-Name-Might-Be were perfectly normal in this respect; a search of the pantry and refrigerator turned up nothing snack-worthy except chocolate chip cookie dough, which we decided to eat raw.

"So, I bet you thought up a list of questions for me in gym – what exactly do you want to know?" Claire asked, propping her elbows on the counter and staring at me.

"I want to know how you and Peter knew where and when I would need rescuing. How could you have known that that guy-?"

"Sylar."

"Sylar – you know his name? So you _have_ met him before!" I exclaimed. "I got this idea that you might've, after I said something about him while you were driving me home and it seemed to make you angry…"

Claire confirmed it with a nod. "Yeah, I know all about him – way more than I ever wanted to."

"Then you know...about what he did to me? I know it sounds crazy, but I'm positive he cut me without even touching me." Claire gave a wry laugh.

"You're right, that is crazy; but it's no crazier than this." She opened a drawer and pulled out a steak knife. "Watch this."

I obediently locked my gaze on the knife – which she drew across her palm! "Oh my God!" Blood welled up from what looked like a deep cut. "You need a band-aid-"

"No, I don't. Watch." Claire held out her hand and I clearly saw the cut knit closed, leaving no evidence of any wound. I gawked at the unbroken skin, then raised my eyes to hers.

She watched me intently…waiting to see what effect this demonstration produced. "H-how did you...? That cut should've needed stitches, but-"

"It's…" She shrugged. "It's just a thing I do. Like a special ability, you know?"

My mind was reeling; it was hard to shake off my astonishment and try to understand this. "A special ability…you mean like a superpower…like Clark Kent or something? I did say you're my hero, but I never thought you were a real superhero!"

"Me, a superhero – I wish. Believe me, Bella, I have seen people with _way_ cooler powers than healing."

"You've seen- you mean there're more people out there with- with special abilities?"

"Oh yeah – a _lot_ more."

"Sylar – he's one of them too, isn't he?" Claire nodded. "So you and Sylar are both special," I mused. "Both of you…and Peter?"

"Wow, you're good."

I raised a hand to my mouth and nibbled my thumbnail; my mind was coming up with so many questions that I couldn't decide which to ask first. I settled on, "How'd you all get this way? I mean, were you bitten by radioactive spiders or what?"

Claire laughed. "No, I've never seen a radioactive spider – ever. As far as I know, you go through your whole life being perfectly normal, and then you wake up one day and you're not. No one's completely sure where it comes from, but there's a genetic link. Both my biological parents have abilities, and so do my father's mother and brother; that's Peter. But I can't say for sure that these genes only show up in people with special parents. It has to start somewhere, right?"

"What is it, though – a mutation? The human race evolving, or-?"

"Whoa, Bella, I don't know that! Anyway, all evolution starts out as mutations; that's how a species evolves, isn't it? And I've seen so many people like this, like me, in just the last year… who knows? This could be the next step in human evolution, or we could just be in the middle of a mutation epidemic. I don't have all the answers, okay?"

This frustrated me, but it was hardly Claire's fault. "Sorry, I'm just a little overwhelmed right now. Okay, let me ask a question you know; tell me about Sylar. Tell me… tell me what ability he has. Is there such a thing as a super-cutting power?"

"Not that I know of; I think cutting people is just one way Sylar uses his telekinesis-"

"Isn't that supposed to be what people do spoon-bending with?" I asked skeptically, making Claire roll her eyes.

"Yeah, you probably could use it to bend spoons, but most telekinetic people are more creative – like Sylar, unfortunately. Speaking of which, do you want to know about him or not?"

"I'm sorry I keep interrupting – it's just that every time you start explaining one thing, it brings up new questions. I'll try to shut up now." I mimed zipping my lips.

"It's all right, Bella. I know this is a lot to take in, but at least you're not having a total meltdown; you're already doing better than some. When Lyle found out what I could do he thought I was an alien," she added quietly, looking down at the countertop.

"Who's Lyle?" I asked, confused.

Claire's head snapped back up. "Never mind; guess you're not the only one getting sidetracked." Then, in an obvious effort to change the subject she said, "Aren't you gonna ask why Sylar likes cutting people telekinetically?"

"Um, because he's a psychopath? Or just because he can, or something like that?"

"You're right on about him being a psycho, but there's more to it than that. See, the _way_ he does it, here," Claire reached across the counter and ran her finger over the thin, faint red line on my forehead, "if he'd been able to finish with you, he would've cut off the whole top of your head and-"

"He _what_?" I jerked back and fell off my stool, adding a bruise or two on the side of my right leg to go with the one on my backside from last Saturday. Claire hurried to help me up; _so much for Peter telling me to try not to fall down again. At least he isn't here to see this time. _He might have teased me about it, just like Emmett… _no, that's _not_ a safe thing to think right now! _I really didn't want to go to pieces in front of Claire; no need to let her know how mentally unstable I was.

"Bella, are you sure you didn't hurt yourself? You look like you're in pain."

_Crap, she noticed! _To distract her, I said, "So Sylar wanted to cut off the top of my head? What would he do that for?"

"To take your brain; see, stuff like telekinesis and whatever else Sylar can do now is all just extra – his main ability is something called intuitive aptitude. Basically, that means that he can figure out how someone's ability works from examining their brain, and then he can do whatever they can do. That's where all his other powers come from."

My eyes had widened so much now that I half expected them to pop out of their sockets. "All his other powers? You mean he's…done _that_ to a bunch of other…other _people_?" I practically shrieked. Almost involuntarily, I pressed my fingers to my forehead as if the incision might suddenly reopen.

Now that I knew the intent behind it, the wound seemed worse than before – sinister. The idea of my brain, the center of all my thoughts and everything else that defined me, being exposed, scrutinized, was horrifying; I couldn't imagine being violated that way. Revulsion and horror preoccupied me for several minutes, during which Claire waited silently for me to absorb what she'd told me; then my head cleared enough for _everything_ she'd said to sink in.

"Okay, back up for just a minute. You said Sylar takes brains to learn how abilities work. If that's what he's after when he does that, why did he do it to me; have you ever heard of him taking a normal person's brain?"

"No, Sylar kills normal people if they get in his way, but he never bothers with their brains." Claire's gaze was so intense that her eyes seemed to drill into mine. "I've heard of him making a mistake – once, when some guy tricked him. Usually he's dead on about who's special and who's not."

The room seemed to be spinning; I'd picked up the implication behind Claire's words, but it was insane, impossible… "What exactly are you saying?" I gasped as if all the oxygen had been squeezed from my lungs.

"Don't play dumb, Bella. You _know_ what I'm saying – that unless Saturday night was some kind of cosmic fluke, you're probably one of us."


	5. Picture Imperfect

**I can't believe I haven't updated in so long, but I won't bore you with excuses; I really have been busy, and I'm trying to finish my other story (after which this one will be my only focus for a while – yay)! Maybe then I'll get more than one chapter done per month…**

**Pixie freak – thank you-thank you-thank you for letting me bounce so many of my ideas off you and staying on my case about writing; this chapter's dedicated to you, hope you like it!**

Chapter 5: Picture Imperfect

"No…no, you don't- you- you've made a mistake… I _can't_ be one of you, whatever you are. I just can't be."

"Why not?"

I snorted. "You have to ask? Claire, look at me. I'm absolutely ordinary – there's not a single special thing about me."

Now it was Claire's turn to look disbelievingly at me. "Newsflash, Bella: I'm pretty ordinary myself, except for being able to spit up bullets and grow back my kidneys. That's how this works – you're just a regular person with a not-so-regular ability. Or lots of abilities," she tacked on as an afterthought, "if your main one happens to be absorbing them from people you meet."

"Like Sylar," I said with a shiver.

"He's not the only one," Claire told me. "But as far as I know, he's the only one that needs to do the brain-removal thing; Peter doesn't."

"Peter? So he's one of the power-sponges you mentioned?"

Claire muffled a laugh behind her hand before saying, "That's a good way of putting it, but I wouldn't say 'sponge' if he's anywhere that he can hear you. He's absorbed some…_interesting_ abilities, and I'm pretty sure one of them is super-strength – it might hurt if he whacked you."

I winced. "He wouldn't need more than average strength to beat me up, trust me." A thought struck me and I asked, "But tell me, do any of his powers involve seeing the future? One of you had to know in advance when to come save me from Sylar, and somehow I don't think indestructibility would help with that, although it'd be a good thing to have when you were actually dealing with him."

For some reason this made Claire grimace. "Yeah, really useful," she muttered; then she shook her head as if reminding herself of the task at hand. I was reminded of her earlier comment about someone named Lyle, and found myself wondering what she and her uncle had left behind when they moved to Forks. I might have tried to find out, but I had no chance because Claire was speaking again and I knew it was important to take in everything she told me.

"My laptop doesn't have a database on everything Peter can do – come to think of it, maybe I should make one now that I'm living with him – but I'm pretty sure he has a couple of precognition-related ones. The first one works in dream-medium, but that's not how we found Forks; that was one of the things I wanted to show you here, c'mon." She hopped off her stool and headed through the living room and up the stairs. I, of course, followed her, which was more or less what I'd been doing since she showed up in the cafeteria and rescued me yet again.

_Now that I know the truth about what she and Peter can do, though, it's starting to sound like saving me from Sylar was more his idea, although I'm sure she helped. I'll have to remember to ask exactly how they got rid of Sylar anyway… and to thank Peter again next time I see him. _I thought I had after he and Claire took me home, but my memories were a little fuzzy and it had been so dark that I now realized I didn't even really know what he looked like. I'd barely recognized Claire before hearing her name, and she was the one who'd driven my truck while I recovered from my head trauma.

Only two of the doors in the upstairs hallway were open and I instinctively made for the room with a jumble of clothes on the bed (a grown man seemed way less likely to have so many outfit do-overs than a teenage girl, especially on the morning of her first day at a new school), but Claire took my arm and directed me to the other half-open door.

It only took a quick glance for me to notice that the décor looked more appropriate for a male than a female and figure out whose room this must be; once I did, I planted my feet and brought us to a jerky halt outside the room. "Claire, are you nuts? We can't go poking around your uncle's bedroom when he's not here!"

From the look Claire gave me, I might've been the nutty room invader. "I don't intend to do any _poking_, Bella; I thought you wanted to see how Peter and I knew where Sylar would attack you, and for that I need to get something that just happens to be in Peter's room." I must have looked skeptical, because she rolled her eyes and said, "Geez, it's not like we're sneaking in to paw through his underwear drawer-"

"Okay, that's one mental image I could do without, thank you."

"Don't worry, it's not anything I've ever actually done. Look, Bella, Peter won't care if we go in his room without written permission, and even if he did what do you think he'd do about it? You're what, eighteen, right?" I nodded. "I think in most cultures that's considered too old to be put in time-out." With that, she jerked my arm hard, dragging me into the room with her.

"Ow! Hey, just because _you_ can heal if you get hurt doesn't mean you should assume everyone else can and start trying to yank my arm out of socket!" I rubbed my shoulder and cast a dark look at Claire, who was already opening one of the drawers in Peter's bedside table (which I sincerely hoped didn't contain his underwear).

After a moment of rummaging, Claire said something to the effect of 'eureka!' and straightened up, pulling a stack of papers out of the drawer. "Here's how we knew to come for you." I took the papers with trembling fingers, unsure of exactly what I expected to be written on them – some sort of Superheroes Yellow Pages? But it wasn't anything like that; it was a drawing of a familiar sign.

"The city of Forks welcomes you," I read softly; I remembered seeing that sign when I first moved here and being depressed by it, wishing I was a million miles away from the city of Forks. The next drawing showed the outside of Newton's Olympic Outfitters as it looked on a typical business day, a sight I'd seen often enough that I shuffled the picture to the back of the stack without much interest.

When I saw the drawing under the one of Newton's, I gasped and nearly dropped it. "H-How was Peter able to draw th-this?" I stammered. It was a fairly stupid question, but I blurted it out anyway because who wouldn't be shocked to find a perfect rendering of her room – accurate to the last detail, down to the battered old copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ next to my alarm clock – drawn by someone who'd never been there? I stared wide-eyed, mesmerized and slightly disturbed by how real the picture was – but not because Peter had known which book I was reading.

The moment of my life captured on this piece of paper was etched quite clearly in my memory, as though burned into it by acid, and it wasn't a pleasant one. I hadn't had any pleasant moments for a long time, of course, but this was one of the few times when my grip on my feelings had slipped and there'd been nothing between me and my all-consuming misery.

When that happened, I had collapsed on my bed, sobbing so hard I choked and wrapping my arms around my chest so tightly that it hurt, trying to keep myself in one piece and wondering how much longer my lungs could pull in enough air for me to survive; I hadn't expected it to be much longer, either. All in all, I didn't relish the idea that this had been Claire and Peter's first look at me.

"I- um, I was having a really bad day then – my, uh, my dad and I got in a big fight and-" I started to fib lamely, but Claire cut me off.

"Hey, none of my business, right? I've had my share of depressed days too; it's nothing to be embarrassed about. And it's not like Peter saw what was on your mind when he drew that picture."

I seized on that, desperate to divert the conversation to something else. "He didn't? So…what, he just saw me in my room right then, like a freeze-frame?"

"I guess so; when he uses that power, it's like he goes into a kind of a trance – his eyes go all white and I don't think he even hears if you try to talk to him – and then when he finishes drawing he just snaps out of it and doesn't remember drawing anything. It's kinda creepy to watch."

It certainly sounded that way; I nodded absentmindedly as I went through the last two pictures. There was one of me showing Sylar which aisle the tents were on, and the last one showed him pinning me against my truck, his finger pointed at my forehead as a red line spread across it and blood ran down my face. "That's how you knew what would happen to me," I murmured, a little shiver rippling down my spine.

"Yeah, it was kind of a relief – I thought I was going crazy, drawing some random girl in this rainy town in Washington." I jumped and whirled, losing my balance, but before I hit the floor I felt someone grab me and looked up into a pair of dark brown eyes that were very close to my own eye color. "I told you," the man said in a fake-stern voice, "not to fall down again."

I got my feet back under me and backed away hastily. "I'm s-sorry, you startled me – it was an accident – and it wasn't my idea to come in your room while you were out – Claire just wanted to show me how you drew Sylar trying to kill me and…" I trailed off as I realized that Peter was staring at me like I'd grown a second head.

"Okay, okay, just…stop apologizing already."

"Relax, Bella; he's not gonna pull a Linda Blair and throw you out the window," Claire chimed in. Sidling around me, she wrapped her arms around Peter and asked, "Where were you when I got home from school anyway? I was a little worried."

"You don't need to worry about me," he assured her as he returned her hug. "I can take care of myself, you know. I was taking a walk, checking out the town…and I called Noah." Claire pulled away, frowning, but Peter held up a hand, forestalling whatever she'd been about to say. "Look, I know you're not happy with him after-" He paused, glancing at me before continuing. "I mean, I understand that it'll take some time before you can forgive him, but he does care about you-"

"Sure he does," Claire said snippily.

Peter just raised his eyebrows, obviously refusing to argue the point with her. "He just wanted to know how you were doing, make sure I hadn't gotten you killed yet."

"Like he has any business checking up on me," Claire fumed. "Well thanks for talking to him; I really don't want to."

Having had just about enough of this incomprehensible discussion, I cleared my throat loudly to remind them that I was still there. "What the hell are you two talking about? Who's Noah, and why are you so mad at him, Claire?"

Claire pressed her lips tightly together, so Peter answered instead. "Noah Bennet is Claire's dad, and I'm not going to tell you about her issues with him – that's her business."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry," I apologized, blushing.

"It's fine," Claire said quickly, "there's nothing wrong with being curious. Stuff with my dad is just…really complicated right now." She sighed and twirled a few blonde strands around her finger. "That's why I asked Peter to let me go with him when he left New York – I needed to get away from everyone for a while."

"Uh-huh. And what was Peter leaving New York for? You don't expect me to believe that you both moved to Forks just because he started drawing me, do you?"

"Ah, no, I wouldn't move somewhere like this because of that," he told me. "It just so happened that I had to get out of town anyway; after I drew you, Claire and I decided that Forks was as good a place as any – it's pretty much the last place anyone would think to look for us, at least."

_The last place anyone would think to look for them? That sounds like someone was after them… Sylar, or someone else? _"Why did you need to leave New York, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I don't mind; this is something we'd have to tell you sooner or later anyway. See, Bella, having these abilities isn't always as great as it seems. Sometimes it can be dangerous, because there are some people – like Sylar – who…how was it that Noah put it when he warned you not to tell people about what you can do?"

"He said there were people who wanted what I had and would hurt me to get it," Claire filled in, "and he was right, so once you get a handle on whatever you can do, Bella, if you're smart you won't use it in front of anyone who can't keep a secret or tell anybody."

Now we were back to the whole 'I might be one of the superheroes' thing, were we? "All right, so you got some kind of precognitive warning about Sylar trying to kill me, which I'll admit _could_ be interpreted as the powers that be telling you to save me, but I still say there's not one extraordinary thing about me. This kind of thing probably happens to you all the time, right?"

Peter shook his head. "No, you're only the second person I've been 'sent' to rescue, if you want to think of it that way. The first was Claire, and she ended up being my niece, so I really doubt I'd find out that you were going to die in time to stop it if it wasn't important for you to stay alive for whatever reason."

I wanted to believe him, to believe that maybe there was still something for me to live for, but it wasn't easy. How could someone as pathetically average and insignificant as me have any greater purpose? "Is there any way to check, like a superpower litmus test or something?"

No one spoke for a moment, then Claire said, "Well, most people just find their abilities by accident, like if you get into a dangerous situation and instinctively use your power to get yourself out – I don't know how you could scan someone for this without blood samples and a DNA analysis."

This was discouraging – I had been in plenty of dangerous situations, and not once had I exhibited any special talents, not even under imminent threat of painful, torturous death. "That'd be a waste of time; even if I do have anything, it's probably something completely lame like superhuman clumsiness."

"Don't give up just yet; I have an idea…maybe…but it needs some work before I could try to use this on you."

I glanced suspiciously at Peter. "This idea of yours doesn't involve needles, does it?"

"No needles," he promised. "It's a new ability that I haven't quite got the hang of yet, and I think I should be sure I do, you know, to make sure nothing goes wrong."

Claire shot him an edgy look but said nothing; I wondered briefly what he meant by 'go wrong' but decided that might fall under the heading of 'not my business'. "Okaaay – let me know when you get the hang of this ability, all right?"

"He will, but now I think it's time for you to go home," Claire interjected. "It's getting dark out, and if your dad's anything like mine he'll have a fit if you're not home soon."

I felt like I'd crash-landed back on Earth after a trip to another planet – in all the excitement of discovering a new breed of humans with superhuman powers and the (highly unlikely, in my opinion) possibility that I might be one of them, I had all but forgotten Charlie. "Right, Dad…yeah, he will be worried. I had to be extra persuasive when I called to tell him I was coming here after school."

Peter and Claire walked me out to my truck, where we said our goodbyes. "See you at lunch tomorrow!" Claire called before I the roar of my engine drowned her out; I waved, realizing that I was actually looking forward to having some time for normal teenage socialization with her.

_But she's _not_ a normal teenager; maybe I'm not either. _How was I supposed to feel about that? Of course I was certain that my new friends must have made a mistake, but what if, by some miracle, they hadn't? What if I _was_ like them? _Yeah, right – I can't be. I'm one hundred percent normal._

_Claire seemed a hundred percent normal too, until you saw her slice her hand open and recover in two seconds; and she said herself that a person could go through their whole life not realizing they had one of these abilities, and then it shows up out of the blue. How do you know it couldn't happen to you? _

I didn't, and that was a singularly unsettling idea – that I might be carrying some abnormal code in my genes and not even knowing it; it sort of scared me, like maybe I wasn't who I'd always thought I was…like the universe was playing a huge joke on me and my whole life had been a lie. Was that something I wanted to find out about? Mightn't it be better to just be friends with Claire at school and with Peter whenever and wherever I might run into him, and try to forget what I'd seen today?

_Yeah, I'll really do that, _I thought, rolling my eyes. I hadn't distanced myself from the Cullens after I found out that they were vampires, and after them special humans ought to be a piece of cake. Absolutely nothing to be afraid of… _Except that when I learned about vampires, they weren't even close to being like me – it wasn't like them being what they were changed what I am. _I had wanted them to change me, though, which was why their departure had devastated me.

Mostly I missed _him_, but he wasn't all I missed; when they left I hadn't lost only my true love, but also the whole future I had chosen. Once that was gone, I couldn't see anything more ahead for myself, any reason to go on, but maybe it didn't have to be that way. If I did turn out to be like Peter and Claire, maybe I could find somewhere else to belong…maybe I belonged with them.

That was probably a stupid thought – just because they'd saved my life and were willing to help me learn more about myself didn't mean they wanted me hanging around them indefinitely…but I felt more at home with them than in my own house, so I knew I would stick with them until they got fed up and told me to get lost. And until that happened, I would let Peter use whatever ability he wanted to examine me for any powers I might have; there was nothing for him to find, but I'd let him try anyway. What else was there for me to do?

**I am so, so super-sorry I didn't get Bella's ability into this one! I really meant to, but it got too long and I couldn't find anything trivial enough that I could take it out and it's getting close to my bedtime… I ****promise**** I'll put in the next chapter, even if I have to write all night 'K? Please no murdering the author! On the plus side, I did think of a majorly dramatic way to show what power she has – but you have to wait at least another week to see what it is! Oh wait, that's not exactly helping with the whole 'getting you to not murder me' thing, is it? (Author ducks behind table to avoid punches and flying fruit).**


	6. Decode Me, Pt 1

**Ah, another way-too-long chapter *cheer*! One day I'll make them shorter, just not today. I ****finally**** got in something about how Bella's shielding ability works (see book 3 of BD for some of the technical stuff), so no more throwing fruit, punches, or anvils at me!**

Chapter 6: Decode Me, Pt. 1

"Hey, Dad!" I called, trying to modulate my voice to the appropriate pitch for someone who'd just come home from a perfectly normal afternoon with a new friend and hadn't had any life-altering revelations all day.

Charlie turned away from the TV and stared at me, his face a mask of shock. I looked down and checked to make sure my pants hadn't fallen down before realizing what the problem was; in my attempt to sound normal, I had put too much emotion into my voice. Naturally, Charlie was floored by hearing me sound almost happy after months of me speaking in a dull monotone. "Hey, Bells. Did you…have a good time?" he asked cautiously.

"Yeah, Claire and I- um, we ate raw cookie dough," I blurted, scrambling to come up with some detail of my visit that wasn't confidential.

"Sounds like fun." I felt the beginnings of a guilty flush creep over my face – I really had been out of it for so long that when I woke up, my own father couldn't talk to me without edging around as if checking for landmines! I could have slapped myself, but instead I hurried into the kitchen to fix dinner.

###

The uncomfortable feeling of disharmony in my world persisted through the night, made it hard for me to fall asleep, and intensified when I walked into my first period English class. I'd managed to be late enough that there was no one left in the halls (unfortunately this also meant I was late enough that Mr. Berty had already started his lecture, earning me a dirty look from him as I slunk in), but that was as long as my luck held.

The class consisted of nineteen students, all of whom glanced up at me as I entered; obviously the news had spread that the school's resident zombie had come back to life after yesterday's lunchroom fiasco. Pretending I didn't notice the eyes on me, I practically ran for my seat – and tripped over someone's bag. I caught myself on the empty desk next to mine, only to look up and see that it wasn't empty anymore.

"Hey, Bella," Claire said brightly as I collapsed into my seat.

"Hi," I mumbled back; I would've liked to say more – perhaps something along the lines of 'what are you doing in this class?', but Mr. Berty called everyone to order before I had the chance. I kept my eyes glued to the textbook for about a minute, trying to give an impression of contrition after bursting in late and causing a disruption, before daring a glance at my new neighbor.

She had her elbow on her desk, head leaning on her hand, which allowed her to look sideways at me and down at her book simultaneously. Taking advantage of the fact that she wasn't ignoring me completely, I scribbled on my notebook and then tilted it so she could read, _Not that I'm not happy to see you, but I thought you had English at a different time. How did you get here?_

Claire shuffled her own notebook on top of her book, wrote something short, and showed me her response. _I flew._

_Ha-ha, you can't fly. __Can you?_

_I wish, but no. I switched my first period biology class for this since I had bio last year, and no, I __didn't__ know you were in here when I made the switch. Although I'm not sorry you are – I'd rather sit by you._

_Why, who were you stuck next to in bio?_

_Where do you think I met Lauren Mallory yesterday?_

I winced sympathetically; then we quickly put our notebooks down before Mr. Berty realized we were writing to each other instead of taking notes on Poe.

When the bell rang, Claire dashed off to the front office, explaining that she was still sorting out her schedule with Mrs. Cope. I didn't know what changes she needed to make, but I hoped she might get into more of the same classes as me; I much preferred her company to that of my other classmates, as the majority of them kept the same careful distance from me that Charlie had last night. Notable exceptions were Lauren, who seemed overtly dismayed that I was 'back', Angela, who quietly told me at lunch that she'd missed me, and Mike, who resumed his former position as my perpetual partner in the dreaded gym class.

His resolve wavered when Coach Clapp announced that we would be playing softball for the next week – I saw the color drain from Mike's face and knew he was imagining the damage I could do with a bat. "You know, Mike, you're free to bail on this one if you want," I offered quietly. "I won't hold it against you."

"Um, I think I will," he said, clearly relieved. "Hey, you and that new girl, Claire, hit it off pretty good, right? Maybe she'll be your partner." I followed Mike's gaze and saw Claire coming out of the locker room with Jessica, both in their gym shorts and t-shirts.

"Yeah, maybe so," I agreed. After all, who better to pair up with in gym than someone who couldn't get hurt?

Claire happily obliged when I asked her to be my softball partner; Jessica, however, leaned in to warn her in a stage whisper, "I wouldn't let Bella swing a bat anywhere close to me if I were you," before jogging off to join Katie Marshall in the farthest possible corner from me.

"What did she-?" Claire started to ask, but I shook my head.

"You'll see soon enough," I said glumly. "Let's just say you'll probably be glad you've got that spontaneous regeneration before class ends."

Coach Clapp had us take turns pitching and batting; I gave Claire the bat first, eager to postpone injuring her or myself as long as I could. Of course I wasn't much better at pitching than batting, and only rarely managed to throw the ball anywhere near my partner; luckily, Claire more than made up what I lacked in athletic ability and always hit the ball back to me – even when she had to jump sideways to do it.

My turn at bat wasn't as bad as it might have been – I only connected bat and ball twice, but I didn't connect the bat with anything else either – at least not until the final minutes of playing time, when I ducked to avoid getting hit by the incoming ball, losing my balance. I stopped myself from falling, but in doing so I accidentally swung my bat in a wide arc and gave Claire a resounding smack on the nose. Cartilage crunched audibly and blood sprayed everywhere, bringing Coach Clapp over at a run. "What happened here?" he barked.

"I tripped," I admitted. "As I was getting back up, I sort of swung my bat around…"

"I think my nose is broken," Claire whimpered, sounding on the verge of tears. I was horrified – shouldn't her nose be healing?

Coach Clapp moved closer to look at the injury, but when he tried to touch her nose Claire jerked away.

"Don't poke it; that just makes it hurt worse!" she howled. "I need to go to the nurse for ice or something!" She ran out of the gym, covering her nose with both hands as she went.

Cheeks flaming with embarrassment, I put away my ball and bat and escaped into the locker room at the fastest pace I could safely use. As I closed the door behind me I was startled, but not entirely surprised, to see Claire by the row of sinks; she had already changed into her street clothes and was stuffing a wad of bloody paper towels into the trash.

"You're okay," I said after finding her nose perfectly straight, her face bruise-free.

"Of course I am – but I put on a pretty good show for the coach, huh?" Claire asked with a satisfied grin.

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, you did a fantastic job of making everyone think I'd bashed your nose in. Don't you think running out with your hands over your face was hamming it up just a _bit_?"

"It was, but seeing my nose un-break wouldn't do much toward making people think I'm like the other kids here, right? It's like Peter and I told you last night, Bella; you have to hide being different around normal people. Sometimes that's a pain, but you can't slip up no matter what." She sighed, her enthusiasm siphoning away.

"C'mon, let's get out of here," I suggested. We made it out the back door to the parking lot before the final bell and stood by my truck, hoods up, talking. "So, have you ever met anyone who _can_ fly?"

"Three people last time I counted: Peter, who got it from his brother, and this kid, West, at my old school. West and I used to date, but I broke up with him."

"Because you moved here with Peter?"

"No, because after my dad got killed by the head of this company he used to work for, I wanted to take my ability public so we wouldn't have to run from them anymore. West didn't like that; he said he liked having his secrets."

"Okay, I know this shouldn't get to me – disturbingly enough, it doesn't – but still, your dad's ex-boss _killed_ him? Is this another of those things I'd need to know sooner or later, or is your life just generally that crazy?"

"My life _is_ that crazy, but here's the story: Dad used to work for this company that studied people like us, only no one else knew about that because they had this paper manufacturing front. Dad hid my ability from them for a long time, until this radioactive guy named Ted lost control of his power and burned our house down, and I had to give him a sedative to stop him from causing a total nuclear explosion. There wasn't a whole lot Dad could do to hide that."

Claire paused and checked to see how I was taking her tale; I thought it seemed more like a sci-fi soap opera than anyone's life, but given the spheres within which my new friend operated, I was fairly certain this was her life – and I'd reached the point where nothing shocked me anymore. "Radioactive Ted burned down your house, check. What happened after that?"

"Dad quit the company and we ran away from them – moved, changed our last name, the whole deal; we went from Texas to California and called ourselves Butler instead of Bennet. It worked for a while, but then they caught up with us, there was this big fight, and my dad got shot."

"I'm sorry about your dad. I couldn't imagine something like that happening to Charlie." I reached out to pat her shoulder, but she pulled away.

"Don't be sorry, Bella; it's fine. One of the company guys took my blood and used it to bring Dad back-"

"Your blood can bring back dead people?"

"Yeah, it's that strong. I've died before," Claire said abruptly, with an air of wanting to get everything out in the open.

I gathered that she expected me to be thrown by this information, but I was determined not to be no matter how weird this conversation became. My voice didn't shake at all as I asked, "You can die…and come back? No permanent damage?"

"Uh-huh; maybe you'll get to see for yourself if you hang around me long enough. I seem to run into plenty of dangerous situations even when I try to be 'normal'." There was bitterness in her tone now; she shook it off and said, "I'm sorry, I've been jabbering for, what, ten minutes? And I haven't asked you one single thing about yourself. Tell me something."

"Can't I ask just one more question? My life is nowhere near as interesting as yours," I wheedled.

"Lucky you. Okay, tell me one thing about yourself and _then_ you can ask one more."

I thought quickly – I knew beyond a doubt what the most interesting detail of my life was, but it was also the one I was least prepared to discuss. Besides, the things Claire had told me might be important for me to know later, whereas I saw no reason that she needed to know about _that_.

"My parents divorced before my first birthday, and Renée moved to Phoenix with me. I came back here to live with Charlie after she married this minor league baseball player, so she could travel with him. I love books, hate makeup and shopping for clothes, and- and I've only gone to any kind of dance once – last year – and that time I had to be dragged inside." I took a deep breath as if that little speech had been a huge exertion equivalent with running a marathon. "See, I said my life was boring. Do I get that other question now?"

Just as Claire nodded, the bell rang and students began pouring out of the school in a mad rush to escape into their vehicles. Knowing my talk with Claire was almost at an end, I hurried to ask my last question. "What kind of ability does Peter have for seeing if there's anything different about me?" That wasn't what I'd meant to ask – I'd really wanted to know how Claire had died, but there was no way I could stuff the words back inside my mouth, so I just waited for her answer.

Claire hesitated, then said, "The one for understanding how things work – the one he got from Sylar. He tries not to use it most of the time because it's so risky – wanting to 'see how things work' is the reason Sylar cuts brains out. It's the best way to figure out someone whose power isn't obvious…but I'm trying really hard not to think about what'll happen if Peter loses control of it."

I swallowed hard. "That's not likely to happen, is it?"

Claire shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. This isn't the first dangerous power Peter's been exposed to and had to learn to control, and he's fine using it to fix my watch and other machine-type stuff, but I've never seen how he does with using it on a person. I'm sorry, Bella." She ran off to her car without another word, leaving me too frozen to do anything more than bite my lip.

So finding out how ordinary – or otherwise – I was might be dangerous. _Well, that makes sense; when _aren't_ things a lot riskier for me than for most everybody else? Hey, maybe that's my power – a superhuman talent for attracting danger! _I laughed quietly at the idea although it really wasn't very laughable. I already knew I wouldn't be scared off this new course I'd chosen – the decision had been made, and there was nothing left but to follow through with it. It was what I'd always done, even when my decision put me in danger; why should this time be any different?

###

After an exhaustingly tense week, all I wanted was to get this resolved one way or another. "Look, I know there's a risk anytime you try using Sylar's power. I accept that, and I want you to…analyze me, whatever…anyway," I insisted, folding my arms and giving Peter my best stubborn frown.

He ran a hand through his hair, probably thinking of all the reasons why pulling out the ability he'd taken from Sylar to examine me was a terrible idea; I braced myself to argue with him, but I'd hardly opened my mouth before he dropped his hands, sighed, and said, "Okay. If you're sure, then we'll go ahead with this."

"Just like that?" I couldn't believe he was giving in so easily. "You're not going to lecture me about how this is dangerous and you could kill me if you…slip up?"

"What would I do that for? Obviously I wouldn't be telling you anything you don't already know – besides, ever hear of informed consent, Bella?"

"Um…is that where you consent to experimental medical treatment even though it might leave you worse off than you were to begin with?"

"That's the one," Peter agreed, "and you've just given it. If you don't mind taking risks, it's not my job to tell you not to, right?"

I nodded, my emotions see-sawing wildly between fear and exhilaration. Being able to do something reckless and dangerous without anyone trying to stop me was new, and it excited me as much or more than it frightened me. "So how does this work?" I said quickly. I was close to losing my nerve, running away, and determined to take the plunge before I did.

"I'm not sure…just sit there. Please." I sat in the chair Peter indicated; it felt like an odd parody of a medical checkup. He sat down facing me, took both my hands, and looked deep into my eyes as if trying to see right through me.

I looked back as long as I could, but this was getting too intense; it seemed like he really was seeing through me, and I didn't like the feeling – like a super-invasive method of X-ray. Peter Petrelli's dark eyes burned into mine, reminding me of Sylar, of Edward, of having my mind peeled open the way an orange peel was removed.

_You wanted this! _I reminded myself, but it was no use. I was panicking now; I tried to look away, but Peter's hand flashed out, grabbing my chin and forcing me to keep eye contact with him. "What are you doing to me?" I gasped. "Get out of my head!"

"I'm not _in_ your head!" he snapped. "At first it was like your mind was a big blank space, except I see now that that's not right; your mind's there just as much as anyone else's, but I can't get into it-"

Understanding hit me like a lightning bolt – Peter wasn't the first to be unable to access my mind – _this_ must be what made me different, made me special – but he was the first to push it this hard; I could feel real pressure building inside my skull as he shoved against whatever invisible barrier surrounded my mind, and it was starting to hurt. "Stop!" I yelped, throwing myself backward, away from him; he was still leaning forward and holding onto me, so I pulled him down as well and we both landed hard on the floor.

My head collided with a chair leg; a nauseating rush of dizziness swept over me as I sat up. Peter was already on his feet, glaring at me. "You shouldn't have done that," he snarled; he seemed angry, although I couldn't make sense of why… Then the picture in front of me shifted, making me dizzy again.

This confused me because nothing was different, yet it all _looked_ different simply because my perspective had changed. The best comparison I knew of was an infrared overlay dropping over my vision, or developing a whole new kind of vision, like a sixth sense – I could feel the wall that wrapped around my mind, blocking anyone who tried to intrude on it, and I could sense Peter's abilities too – the main one that copied whatever powers he came in contact with as well as everything he'd absorbed since his original ability activated.

Mostly, I could sense what he'd copied from Sylar – instantly understanding how things worked was a good description for it, but I could also see the morbid curiosity – no, the _hunger_, the predatory instinct – that came with it, and how that aspect of Sylar's intuition could get out of hand and short out everything else, other powers and even rational thought. And I could sense that Peter was no longer in control of it. _Oh, _crap_!_

**OK, so I ended with a cliffhanger, but I never said I wouldn't do ****that**, **just that I'd tell you what Bella's ability is – so you still can't throw stuff at me! Random info: I looked up informed consent after mentioning it here and found out that Bella really could give it since she's not mentally retarded, insane (well, not legally classified as insane), intoxicated, severely sleep-deprived, suffering from Alzheimer's disease, or in a coma; also, she's an adult. Interesting guidelines for competency, or at least interesting to me – then again, I probably am insane… **


	7. Decode Me, Pt 2

**Nothing terribly exciting in this chapter, however there is some more interaction between Bella and Peter, which seems important to me because putting them together would be weird if they never talked, right? There's also some tension between him and Claire over him using Sylar's power to find out about Bella's – no big fights of course, but I thought it'd be rational for Claire to be perturbed over Peter taking/using Sylar's ability considering what Sylar did to her. And I think taking said power after being warned about the side effects was… what's the word I'm looking for? Oh yeah, dumb! Feel free to debate with me on that if you'd like.**

Chapter 7: Decode Me, Pt. 2

Peter flicked his fingers, telekinetically pushing me backward, sending me sprawling, disorienting me all over again. Before I could so much as begin gathering the scattered threads of my thoughts he was pulling me to my feet. "Get the hell away from me!" he shouted, shoving me so hard that I was nearly knocked down.

I instinctively grabbed him for balance, stammering out, "Peter, wh-what's happening?"

"I told you this ability was dangerous, didn't I – that this could happen if I tried to use it and lost control? But you told me to use it anyway-" he grimaced like this was almost painful for him, "-and now I'll get into your mind the hard way if you don't get out of here now!"

But I couldn't. My rational mind screamed at me to do what he said, to run as fast and far as possible before the last remnants of his control over this volatile ability slipped away and he really did try to finish what Sylar had started, but that rational part was drowned out by something stronger – an ability-related instinct much the same as the one that came with intuitive aptitude, so strong it left no room for thinking, or for doing anything except using this new part of my mind.

Seconds before, I had gained a new and different kind of perception for sensing all the abilities Peter's mind could access; now I sensed how to block that access. So I did it. I reached out with my mind and blocked Peter from tapping into Sylar's power as easily as I would reach my hand out to flip a switch on or off. No sooner had I done whatever I had done than all the tension that had been building since he first tried to touch my mind drained out of the atmosphere.

Peter and I both stumbled slightly, thrown off kilter by the sudden shift in our brains; he was obviously in control of himself once more and my power-sensing infrared vision vanished. With it off I saw nothing to mark the man in front of me as anything other than absolutely ordinary, which was something of a relief – with it on I saw Peter's powers like some kind of hot spot, or light, and he'd absorbed so many that it was like staring into the sun. Looking at just the man, rather than all the power contained in his brain, was easier.

"Bella, what- how- I was about to lose it, I mean really lose it and rip your head open – then it just stopped before I did… Was- was that you?" It was almost comforting to see that I wasn't the only one whose head was spinning, and oddly satisfying that for once I was the one with the answers instead of the one needing an explanation.

"Yeah, that was me," I said in a tone I hoped didn't sound like bragging. "I don't know how I did it; I was just panicking and then it was like this drive I never knew I had got turned on and I just…did it without even thinking about it."

Peter nodded, rubbing his forehead; I wondered if that helped him think or if my flipping his mental switches had given him a headache. "That makes sense; like Claire told you, the first time using your abilities is usually like that. The part I don't understand is exactly what did you do?"

I wasn't sure how to explain it, but I did my best. "I sensed all of your abilities, like light switches inside your head, and I just turned off the one that controlled Sylar's intuition. That's it, really. But hey, Claire told me about you, what you do, and if I remember it right shouldn't you have whatever I have now? I mean, she said you absorb new powers by getting close to someone who has them, and you've been in close proximity to me; we even had skin-to-skin contact while you bandaged me up after…you know," I finished awkwardly after changing my mind about saying 'after Sylar tried to decapitate me'.

It wasn't that I was afraid to talk about that night – although the memory still caused the unpleasant sensation of something cold slithering down my spine, it was hardly the worst I'd endured – just that it seemed insensitive to bring that up after less-than-perfect control had almost caused Peter to do the same thing. "Um, I think I've figured out what I can do now, so should I show you how to use it, or is that the kind of thing you do yourself? Sorry, I don't really understand how you use this thing of yours." I blushed, certain I was making a fool of myself and glad my mind was unreadable.

"Yeah, neither did I when it first showed up. Caused a lot of trouble before I finally got a grip on it, and even now I mess up sometimes – obviously."

"Oh," was all I could think to say. "So basically you're telling me that this whole superpowers thing is something you never completely figure out, and you have to keep learning as you go?"

"Pretty much."

This time I couldn't come up with any response, so I kept my mouth shut; at least, I did until yet another question popped into my head. "When you first got your power, didn't anyone explain it to you, tell you what to do with it? Or…was there no one around who could?"

"There was. My mother knew exactly what was going on with me, and with Nathan-"

"Who's Nathan?"

"My older brother. He can-"

"Fly," I supplied. "Claire told me. I won't interrupt you again, sorry."

"Okay, now you're doing that thing where you apologize too much."

"I'm s-"

"_Don't_ say you're sorry. Just – just go tell Claire she can come out of her room now, okay?"

"Claire's been in her room this whole time?" I asked, taken aback and slightly hurt. "I thought she wasn't home; I guess I didn't notice if her car was here or not, since I was preoccupied… Is she angry with me?"

"Why would she be? It's me she's avoiding, not you," Peter assured me. Confused, I opened my mouth to ask why Claire wanted to avoid him – I'd always thought they got along quite well – but he guessed what I was thinking and said, "Claire doesn't approve of me using Sylar's power; she wasn't happy when she found out I'd taken it from him, but she gets that there's no way I can get rid of it. Most of the time she's okay with that, but she hates me trying to use it."

He turned away to stare out the window, although I could tell he wasn't taking in the scenery at all; clearly he was unhappy about something, but I wasn't sure whether that was having Sylar's dangerous power and the urge to kill that came with it or arguing with Claire about using or repressing it.

"I'm…sorry…about…" I began hesitantly, uncertain what to express sympathy for.

Peter's shoulders jerked as if he was shrugging it off. "Don't be. Claire's right; I shouldn't have made him tell me how to tap into his power – he warned me this would happen and I didn't listen, which was about the stupidest thing I could've done. And now that I've got his intuition, look how much good it's done me; I just tried to kill you! If you hadn't been able to stop me, I would have."

Another twinge of sympathy jolted through me, which was a strange feeling; it had been a long time since I'd felt sorry for anyone besides myself. I wished I could say something to make him feel better – after all, he'd done a lot for me, saving me from Sylar and helping me find something that I'd never been able to find in myself – but the right words didn't come to mind, so I settled for edging closer and tentatively laying my hand on his arm.

The simple gesture made my stomach flutter nervously; I'd never tried to be friends with anyone who wasn't a high school student like me before – my extracurricular social life was nonexistent, so classes were the only places I met new people – and I seemed to have an extraordinary amount of trouble with how to act around Peter. _Don't be stupid; he's not _that_ much older than the kids I hang out with at school, and Claire doesn't turn into a bundle of nerves around him!_

_Of course she doesn't, _a voice in the back of my head retorted, _he's her uncle. Her being nervous around him would be as dumb as me being uncomfortable with Charlie! _Or possibly Claire was just better with people than I was – not that that was saying much. I waited anxiously to see if Peter had a problem with me touching him; he tensed a bit and glanced down at my hand but didn't pull away, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and tightened my grip briefly before releasing him. "I think I'll go let Claire know I'm still alive," I said, and immediately felt like biting my tongue for saying something so absurdly stupid.

"Good idea." Peter's mouth twitched –he was trying not to laugh at me. _I should definitely stick to being friends with other teenagers; apparently I can't keep from coming off as a complete dolt around anyone older! _I retreated toward the stairs leading up to Claire's room before any more brilliant comments found their way out of my mouth, hoping fervently that I wouldn't trip on the way.

To my intense relief, I made it all the way to Claire's room without incident – and found the door closed. Barging in on my friend seemed rude; I knocked, but the door didn't open. "Claire, it's Bella. Can I come in?" No answer. "Claire?" I pressed my ear to the door and picked up nothing but some sort of muffled pounding vibrating through the wood. _What in the world is she doing in there? _My first thought was to call Peter, but that might not be the best idea if Claire had shut herself in there because she was mad at him. Instead I twisted the knob, not knowing whether to be pleased or dismayed when the door swung open.

I entered Claire's room and found that my half-formed worries had been groundless; she wasn't smashing furniture or anything like that (not that I'd really expected her to be, but still). In fact, she wasn't doing anything except lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling – the headache-inducing pounding was coming from her stereo, something I probably would have realized sooner if I hadn't forgone listening to music for so long.

Music didn't bother me now, but the earsplitting decibel level to which Claire had cranked the stereo did, so I quickly located the 'Stop' button and killed the noise. "Hey!" Claire sat bolt upright, startled by the sudden silence, then relaxed when she saw me. "Oh, Bella, it's you."

"Yeah. Sorry for just walking in, but I did knock…"

"It's fine; I just didn't hear you."

"Gee, I wonder why," I said drily. "I suppose you don't have to worry about hearing loss – your ears can probably repair themselves – but what do you need such loud music for?"

"Nothing really…okay, honestly I turned it up to try to annoy Peter, but it doesn't seem to have worked." She shook her head, irritated.

Trying to cheer her up, I said, "Well, I don't know if you annoyed him or not, but he certainly got the message that you're not happy with him."

"So I guess now you want to know why," Claire said in a tone that suggested she was resigning herself to explaining something unpleasant.

I scratched my arm, searching for imaginary bug bites to give myself an excuse to look away. "Well…Peter actually kind of…already told me. Something about you being upset over him taking Sylar's power? But from what I've heard, it doesn't sound like he had much choice in the matter…or did he?"

"Yes, he did! He'd met Sylar before and copied stuff like telekinesis from him, but he never had the one that makes Sylar rip out brains till he took it on purpose!" She clenched her fists like she was resisting the urge to punch something.

I frowned; I was no fan of Sylar myself, given that he'd tried to kill me, but even I didn't get angry every time he came into the conversation. "Claire, um…don't hit me for asking, but I can't help noticing that Sylar seems to be a sore subject with you…" I stopped there, the vocal equivalent of leaving a blank space for her to fill.

"Yeah, he is." Claire bit her lip, teeth digging into her skin until bright red droplets welled up around them.

"Claire – you're bleeding!" I exclaimed.

She stopped biting and ran a finger over her mouth, examining the blood with mild interest. "Huh, I didn't notice."

"You didn't _notice_ biting so hard you broke your skin? Okay, healing I can understand, but this – what is it, you don't even feel pain?"

"I used to; I don't anymore. Sylar did that to me, which is why I hate him. Pain was the only thing that made me feel like I was still human; he took that away and now…now I don't know what I feel like. Not anything close to normal for humans – I'm a freak. I've always thought maybe I was, but at least I had one normal thing to hold onto until he-" Her voice rose angrily until she cut herself off midsentence. "Sorry, I think I need a minute."

"I don't blame you." I honestly didn't; I understood all too well what it was like to go through something horrible that left you feeling like a barely-human wreck of what you used to be. I'd had my own similarly devastating experience, after all. "Look, if you don't want to talk about this anymore, you don't have to."

Claire gave me a grateful smile but said, "No, I think I should talk about it. I really haven't – there aren't many people I _can_ talk to about something like this – and getting it off my chest might help. And it's one of those things you might want to know about me, you know, since we hang out so much. Anyway, Sylar tried to get my ability before, but I guess the third time was the charm."

"Third? What happened the first and second times?"

"The first time Peter saved me – which, by the way, was also the first time I met him, what with me being adopted and all, and we didn't even know we were related – and the second time I wasn't home and my dad and his partner got there in time to catch Sylar and take him away. Too bad the company never got any better at _keeping_ him locked up; he's gotten away from them, what, three times now? I think they must have some pretty crappy holding facilities," she said, rolling her eyes. "So Sylar finally caught me home alone…and he took what he wanted from me."

"You mean…?"

"He cut the top of my head off and got a good look at my brain, yes. I thought maybe he was going to eat it, but he said that was disgusting – 'cause _he's_ really one to talk – and that there was something different about me and that he couldn't kill me, and then when he was done he reattached my scalp so I could heal. Only there must've been some damage I couldn't recover from, because that was when I stopped feeling when I get hurt."

At a loss for words for the second time, I once again found my capacity for offering comfort reduced to touching; at least reaching out and squeezing Claire's hand was easier, probably because she was just another teenage girl like me. We sat on the bed saying nothing, both lost in our own thoughts, until we were brought back to reality by Peter knocking on the open door.

"Not interrupting anything, am I?" he asked, looking from me to Claire and back as if trying to figure out what we were doing before he came in.

"No, no, not at all – we were just, um…"

"Hypnotizing each other? Or working on synchronized staring into space?"

"Yeah, that's what we were doing – I think synchronized space-staring will be the next big thing in sports," Claire quipped before I could say anything, for which I was thankful as I didn't have any witty comebacks in mind.

"Good, it'll give you something new to do since you've quit cheerleading," Peter shot back. "Anyway, Bella, your dad just called; apparently something's come up at work and he wanted you to know he'll be late getting home."

"Charlie won't be home until late?" I scrambled off Claire's bed, too focused on this news to be embarrassed about grabbing the mattress's edge for balance. "Why, what happened?"

Peter held up his hands, fingers spread in the universal gesture for 'search me'. "All he told me was, and I quote, 'something's come up at work'. You said he's a cop, right?" I nodded. "Then it could be just about anything requiring law enforcement. Whatever it is, he seemed worried, either about you driving after dark or being home by yourself, because he asked if it was all right for you to stay here tonight. I told him it was fine with me; what about you?"

"Yeah…fine," I repeated mechanically. What could have happened? And Charlie didn't want me home alone – did that mean he expected to be out all night?

"Bella, are you all right?" Peter asked, moving closer and gripping my shoulders to steady me.

"Yes," I murmured dazedly, then shook myself out of my semi-trance. "Sorry for spacing out, I just-"

"Worry about your dad; it's okay. Whatever's happened, I'm sure it's nothing you need to get wound up over." He tightened his grip on me for a second before letting go and turning to Claire, who'd frozen as she took in this new development. "You don't mind Bella staying here, do you?"

She shook her head. "Not at all; she can sleep in here unless she'd rather we set up the guest room-"

"No, I don't want you to go to any trouble," I cut in. "Sleeping in here's fine – although I'll have to borrow some pajamas, and I don't have my toothbrush since I wasn't planning on spending the night."

"I'm sure there's an extra one around here somewhere, but if you'd rather have yours I could take you back to your house to grab your stuff," Peter offered.

I agreed without thinking, and then mentally groaned when I thought of the number of opportunities the car ride to my house – on the other side of Forks! – would give me for embarrassing myself in front of him.


	8. Frustration, Suspicion, Etc

Chapter 8: Frustration, Suspicion, Etc.

Bracing myself for more tense awkwardness, I headed for the door only to be stopped by a hand on my shoulder. "Where do you think you're going?" Peter asked.

"Um, to my truck?"

"Never mind the truck; I know a faster way of getting to your house." No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Claire's room disappeared, replaced by Charlie's living room.

"What the-?" I spun to stare at Peter, whose hand had already dropped off my shoulder.

"It's called teleportation, Bella. Haven't you ever seen _Star Trek_?"

I frowned, miffed. "I'm not that into science fiction. It so happens that I do know what teleportation is; I just didn't know you could do it. I certainly wasn't expecting you to teleport _me_."

"Should I warn you next time?"

"Yes, and make a list of everything you can do*. I hate being taken by surprise." I left then while I had the last word and was back in less than five minutes with my bag of sleepover necessities. "Okay, I've got my stuff. We can teleport back to your house now."

Peter put his hand on my shoulder again, and this time I made sure my eyes stayed wide open so I could see the exact moment when we materialized in the kitchen where Claire was starting dinner. "I'll do that if you want," I offered.

"You don't have to – you are the guest, after all."

"Actually, I'd like to. I fix dinner for Charlie every night, and not cooking would feel weird."

"Not cooking feels weird?" Claire's forehead puckered in a way that told me she thought _I_ was weird. "You really have to do dinner every night at your house?"

"Unless I want to eat fried eggs and bacon every night, yeah – Charlie has his good qualities, but being a gourmet chef isn't one of them. Not that I am," I added, not wanting her to get any expectations I couldn't live up to.

"Okay. Here you go-" Claire handed over the cheese grater "-and I'll take this up to my room." She slid my bag's strap off my shoulder and slung it over hers.

I moved to the counter, resumed grating the cheese where she'd left off, and was just beginning to lose myself in the comfortingly familiar task when Peter shattered my reverie by starting on the potatoes – at the sink, which happened to be right next to where I stood. This set me on edge again, as I wasn't used to anyone hanging around or helping me in the kitchen. Aside from taking away the last vestige of my normal evening routine, his presence made me feel as if I ought to be making conversation; yet I couldn't think of anything to say. I tried two or three times, opening my mouth only to snap it shut when no words came out.

A minute dragged by in silence that seemed to press on my lungs before, just as I was thinking I'd have to scream soon simply for the sake of hearing something besides the clock's slow ticking and the jumbled thoughts running through my head, Peter finally spoke. "So, you said you're not into sci-fi, but you never told me what you _are_ into."

"Why does it matter to you?" When he didn't answer, I looked up from the cheese and saw that he was looking back, frowning slightly as if taking careful stock of the situation. I immediately averted my gaze – remembering Claire's account of how Sylar's contact with her brain had somehow altered its inner workings, leaving her immune to pain, I wondered if Peter using the same power on me had wrought a similar change. He was after all the first person to successfully touch my mind, and that touch had activated something in there that had lain dormant until this afternoon.

Whatever the reason, eye contact with him was now unsettlingly intense, almost like communication on some level where no words existed and none were required – but I didn't know what was said this way, so it made me uneasy. _Does he feel it too? _Though I desperately wished I could ask, I couldn't find the words to define my own feelings; therefore I had no business and no way of asking about his.

"It doesn't, not much anyway. I just thought…like Claire and I've already told you, we came here because I drew you and we decided it was because we were meant to save you; then you end up being like us, and you're already Claire's new best friend-"

"I am?"

"Yeah; well, she doesn't exactly have a lot of other friends, you know. Being different probably has something to do with that – it's hard to let anyone get close when you have to hide who you are – but I can tell she likes you, and not just because you're someone she can be herself around. Point is, I doubt I'll be seeing the last of you anytime soon, so I think I should know more about you than that you're a better cook than your dad, fall down a lot, drive a truck with a bad muffler, and don't watch _Star Trek_."

I scowled up at him. "Okay, the first thing you need to know is that you don't knock my truck; it may not be flashy, but at least I have my own vehicle. The only one I've seen around here is that Charger Claire takes to school every day, so I'm guessing you teleport everywhere." I paused so he could contradict me if I was wrong; he didn't. "Not that there's anything wrong with that," I allowed. "You obviously save a lot of time that way – gas money too, I imagine."

He nodded but said nothing, and I knew he wouldn't until I'd told him more about myself – he wasn't going to give me a chance to segue into a different topic. Acknowledging defeat, I surrendered and gave him the same overview of my life story I'd given Claire. Mercifully, he resumed peeling and chopping the potatoes; talking was easier when his attention wasn't focused exclusively on me.

When I reached the end of my tale I expected him to echo my opinion that I was one of the most boring people on the planet. Instead he said, "So, you finish _Pride and Prejudice_ yet?"

"Hey, how did you-? Oh right, you drew it on my bedside table. Yes, I've finished it – lots of times, actually. I like to reread my favorites." To my horror I felt heat creeping over my face, as if something was wrong with reading the same book again and again. "What about you? You must have a favorite book, right?"

"Mmm… I've come across a few good ones, but nothing I read more than once. Guess I don't have as much time for reading as you do."

That sounded terrible to me. "You have no time to _read_?" _How does he survive?_

"Well no; work kinda takes it up, you know?"

"Oh," I muttered. Just when I was finally feeling comfortable with him, like I would with Claire or Jacob or Mike or any of my other friends, he had to go and remind me that he _wasn't_ like any other friend I had – he was a lot older than them, and of course, me. Technically I was also an adult (my eighteenth birthday was indelibly etched in my memory, no matter how much I wished I could forget that night) but only by the numbers. The only work I'd ever done was a part-time job at Newton's, and I still lived with my dad; I was still in _high school_, for crying out loud!

Remembering everything about my relatively short life I'd spouted minutes ago, I felt chagrin settle like lead in my stomach. _I must seem like such a kid to him, _I thought, a strange depression tinting the thought. I was used to feeling more grown-up than my peers, than some adults, even – the effect of growing up with Renée. I was not used to being made to feel like a teenage kid who'd had practically no experience with the real world, and now the reminder that that was precisely what I was to some people stuck in my throat, like dry-swallowing a bitter pill.

I turned away to set the table before my expression gave away what I was thinking. "Hey, Bella, what-?" Peter broke off before finishing his question, distracted as Claire pattered into the room. "There you are."

"Here I am." She poured Cokes and replaced the bottle in the refrigerator, and Peter's eyes stayed glued on her the whole time until she whirled around and demanded, "What?"

"How come you took so long with getting Bella's stuff up to your room? You didn't…do anything else while you were up there, did you?"

"Like what?"

"Like jumping out the window or trying to drown yourself in the sink."

"Why would Claire do something like that?" I asked, shocked; I wouldn't have figured her for the self-mutilating type.

"She used to try hurting herself to test her limits," Peter explained, "but I told her she'd have to stop that if she was going to live with me."

"And I have," Claire insisted vehemently. "I didn't come back in here because you and Bella never really got to talk much and I didn't want to interrupt while you were. I thought you'd like her if you knew her better."

Peter sighed; he obviously wasn't convinced, but seemed to realize he'd get nowhere by pressing the issue. "Good call. She's…different from most girls your age, I'll give you that."

"Told you so. I noticed that Bella isn't all that close to any other kids at school besides me – and, well, Mike Newton-" she giggled and I glared, "-so I thought you two might get along since she usually acts more mature than your average eighteen-year-old." I erased my glare before Claire saw it, deciding she'd made up for her remark about Mike's renewed crush on me.

"Yeah, she does. It was nice of you to give us time to talk…and get all the food done."

Claire widened her eyes innocently.

###

I hovered on the fuzzy border between sleeping and waking until I was pushed over the line into consciousness when something warm and alive that wasn't part of my body brushed my leg. Startled, I sat up quickly, throwing the covers off and wondering why I wasn't in my own bed.

Something shifted to my right, and I looked down to see Claire lying there, one half-open eye visible through the hair that had fallen over her face; then everything came rushing back. "Sorry," I whispered. She mumbled indistinctly and grabbed the extra pillow I'd slept on, pulling it over her head and instantly going back to sleep.

That course of action was no longer open to me now that my pillow was gone, so I got up as quietly as possible and made my way to the kitchen in hopes of finding something caffeinated. I paused when I heard Peter's voice; it didn't surprise me that he was already up, but I wasn't crazy about the idea of him seeing me in the ratty sweats I wore to bed. I started to slip back upstairs, but stopped when Peter fell silent and someone else answered him – Charlie!

Forgetting how far from presentable I looked, I hurried in. "Dad! Were you out all night?" I exclaimed, noting that Charlie was wearing his gun belt and sheriff's jacket, which was damp and plastered with several wet leaves.

"Most of it," he said wearily, putting down his coffee. "We got a call about a hiker gone missing and spent almost all night looking for him."

"Does that happen often around here?" Peter asked.

"Once in a while; not this close to town," Charlie replied. "We never found the hiker, but we did find a little blood on a tree trunk near his campsite. We're still waiting for a positive ID from the lab in Seattle, but most of us think it's his."

"And you say this was close to town?"

"Just under five miles outside city limits," Charlie said grimly. "That's why I didn't want Bella driving home alone last night. Thanks for letting her stay here."

Peter assured him that it was no trouble and that I was welcome any time, Charlie said the same applied to our house if Peter ever needed somewhere to leave Claire overnight and then told me we could go home as soon as I'd eaten and got my clothes on. I took the coffee and toast Peter gave me, but barely tasted it. Rationally, I knew I shouldn't be upset by wild animals attacking a hiker – it was bound to happen sometimes in a place like this; still, something about Charlie's story disturbed me.

I couldn't put my finger on what it was, though, so the sense of vague unease was swept into a back corner of my mind as I went upstairs to get dressed. Claire was awake by then, and she had something for me before I left. "You like reading, so I thought you might like to have this in case you ever want a break from Jane Austen and Shakespeare."

I took the book she held out with a tingling sensation in my fingertips different from the one usually inspired by new reading material; one look at the strange double helix symbol on the book's blue cover let me know immediately that this wasn't the sort of thing that routinely filled my bookshelves. "_Activating Evolution_? What's this about? Who's Chandra Suresh?"

"Some geneticist from India. The interesting part is that he had theories about people like us, humans who'd evolved and developed special abilities. I should've given it to you sooner, but I forgot I had it for a while. West gave it to me, and I haven't looked at it since we…you know."

I nodded; I understood too well what it was like to avoid things that reminded you of a breakup. "Thank you."

###

Despite being perfectly happy with my volumes of Shakespeare, Austen, and my other favorite classics, I found that getting interested in Dr. Suresh's book was easier than I would have expected. Of course that was only because I'd seen proof with my own eyes that the things discussed in the book were real; otherwise I would have put it down after a minute, discounting it as ridiculous, impossible. I found a name for what I could do – my ability was called a negation factor, making me a human shield against other posthumans, as the book called us.

I also learned that people with my ability were naturally immune to mental powers such as telepathy and any form of mental manipulation, including but not limited to abilities that erased or altered memories or created illusions by tricking the brain into wrongly interpreting information received from the eyes. I could prevent posthumans around me from accessing their powers, but I had to make an effort to do that; according to Dr. Suresh, I could even set up a mental block that could theoretically leave someone permanently unable to use their power but might need some time and work before getting to that point.

Unfortunately, my progress was limited by a lack of anyone to practice on besides Peter, as I was unwilling to let Claire hurt herself and try to prevent her from healing; this was frustrating, because I didn't want to permanently block him from using his powers, except maybe Sylar's predatory intuition, but I wasn't about sure I could negate selectively yet and wouldn't try doing that until I could.

To make matters worse, Peter said focus was frequently important for mastering an ability that required intentional use, and I found myself distracted all too often. Three more hikers went missing over the next month, all closer to Forks than was normal for animal attacks; none of them ever came back, but Charlie and the rangers found more human blood in the woods. I got more nervous with every new disappearance – something about the bear theory held by most Newton's customers seemed off and I had the nagging feeling that I should have a better explanation.

I tried to come up with one, but it eluded me although I felt that the answer was right under my nose; no one else was any help either. Charlie was reluctant to tell me more than necessary about the case, not wanting to frighten me, and most of my classmates seemed to be ignoring the disturbing goings-on as best they could. Claire and Peter listened to my worried fretting willingly enough; however, neither had any useful insights – in fact, the conversations I'd overheard from Newton's clientele had made me more knowledgeable about forest wildlife than them.

Harry Clearwater and Billy Black came up from La Push to watch a football game with Charlie; I asked where Jacob was, having realized that he would be the ideal person to discuss my faint suspicions and fears with. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen Jake lately," Charlie remarked. My stomach squirmed guiltily – I honestly hadn't thought to look for him – but Billy said that Jacob spent most of his time running around with a pack of new buddies in La Push these days.

Charlie replied that I'd been the same way, always hanging with Claire (who was there so we could do calculus homework together) and Peter (who had been dragged along by Claire and subsequently roped into watching the game, which didn't exactly thrill him) since I met them. During halftime I took pity on him and pretended to need help with an incomprehensible problem, giving him an excuse to leave. Once we were out of earshot of the sports fans, he commented on how the fascination with which they devoured the action was incomprehensible to him.

I agreed, but I was secretly glad they were there, doing that – this was the closest to normalcy the Swan household had been all week. I should have known it was too good to last.

***Here's my list of all the abilities Peter has at this point, who he copied it from, and explanatory notes where there's any difference from Heroes canon:**

Enhanced dreaming – Angela Petrelli

Flight – Nathan Petrelli

Precognitive drawing – Isaac Mendez

Time-freezing/teleportation – Hiro Nakamura

Regeneration – Claire Bennet

Telepathy – Matt Parkman

Invisibility – Claude

Telekinesis and intuitive aptitude – Sylar

Super-strength – Niki Sanders

Technopathy – Micah Sanders **(He was in Kirby Plaza with D.L. in How to Stop an Exploding Man and Peter was close enough to absorb D.L.'s power, so my theory is that he probably got Micah's too and there was just no opportunity for him to use it on the show. But I'll find one.)**

Radioactivity – Ted Sprague

Intangibility – D.L. Hawkins

Electricity generation/manipulation – Elle Bishop

Pyrokinesis – Flint Gordon

Super-speed – Daphne Millbrook

Power negation/immunity to others' telepathy – Bella Swan **(Obviously) **

Clairvoyance – Molly Walker **(Ditto my explanation for him having Micah's power; not sure I'll have a reason for him to use this one, but there'd be a logic gap if he didn't have it so there it is.)**

Whatever the proper name for Knox's power is – **(I realize he should have it since Knox was in Arthur's office with Flint and Daphne, but he won't use this one at all in this story) **


	9. Saturday Morning Special

Chapter 9: Saturday Morning Special

Surprising – that was the best word for this nightmare. It was surprising partly because I hadn't had this nightmare in so long, I'd thought I was free of it for good; though in all fairness, I had practically invited it back tonight. Really, I should have known better, but on the other hand, how _could_ I have known better? This was hardly my fault.

Part of me wanted to blame Claire, but that wasn't fair either – she'd had no idea when she accepted, for both of us, Jessica's invitation to go with her, Angela, Ben, Mike, and Austin Marks to see a movie of how I would be affected when the movie turned out to be about _vampires_, of all things. I hadn't told her, or anyone else for that matter, that I needed to avoid anything vampire-related, even Hollywood's inaccurate representation of them. I'd thought I was past this – I had long since regained my tolerance for music, TV, and almost everything else – except anything that reminded me of vampires.

I wasn't able to sit through the whole movie, but still I seemed to have taken in enough to bring back my old nightmare; it wasn't quite the same one I used to have, however, and therein lay the surprise. This time, as I hurried through the gloomy wood I noticed splashes of something I recognized as blood on the trees and carpet-like moss covering the ground, and I'd never reached the point where I forgot what I was searching for. Instead of forgetting, I never had a clear grasp of what I was looking for in the first place.

It was only when I was jolted awake by some subconscious stimulus and gasped out "Vampires!" that I understood the meaning behind the new variation in my old dream. I flopped back onto my pillow but didn't bother to pull the covers over myself; I knew I wasn't going back to sleep, never mind that the sky outside my window was still black. I lay completely motionless, barely even breathing, head spinning with what my dream had revealed.

People were disappearing from the forests. The blood made it obvious that something was making them disappear, but the pattern of attacks fit no animal that anyone could think of. "It's not an animal," I whispered into the empty darkness. "It's a vampire." These terrifying words had the ring of truth, however much I wanted to deny them.

There was a vampire hunting on the Olympic Peninsula again, and it was definitely of the non-vegetarian variety. The question was, now that I knew…what was I going to do?

###

"Bella? D'you know what time it is?" For the first time I could remember, Peter sounded unhappy to hear from me. He also sounded like he was talking around a mouthful of fuzzy sock, so I strongly suspected the unhappiness was due to me waking him earlier than he would have liked.

"Yes, I do know what time it is and I'm sorry I had to wake you up – but I really did have to," I whispered. "I need help."

###

"Okay…explain to me one more time why you need me to find the places where all the hikers went missing. Oh wait, you haven't explained for the first time yet."

"Can you do it or not?" I demanded.

"Yes I can, but I won't till you tell me why you want me to – and why it's suddenly so important that you had to get me up at _five-thirty_." Peter gave me a not-quite-glare that made it clear he didn't appreciate jumping out of bed, throwing on the first jeans to touch his fingers with the t-shirt he'd slept in, and teleporting to my side almost faster than I'd put my phone down only to find that all I needed was for him to find a bunch of days-old scenes of what he didn't even think of as crimes.

Okay, so maybe saying I needed help without specifying that my problem didn't involve immediate mortal danger was shading the truth a bit, if not outright lying; I wasn't sorry, though. A vampire making meals out of hikers in the woods so close to home wasn't the kind of knowledge I could just sit with alone in the dark – not that I intended to bring up vampires without some kind of proof, of which I had none. Nevertheless, the presence of another human brought me a profound sense of relief.

More than just being grateful for the company, I was glad it was Peter who'd taken my call instead of Claire, although I hadn't actually been trying to reach him, specifically. I did love Claire, of course – she was like the sister I would have wanted if I ever _had_ wanted a sister – but if I had to choose between her and Peter, there was no doubt in my mind who I'd rather have with me while poking around murder scenes. After I'd convinced him that I had a good reason for wanting to poke around said murder scenes, that is.

"Look, this'll probably sound dumb, but just trust me, please?"

"I do trust you."

"Good. Here's the thing: I think I might know something about what's happening out there. Well, not exactly- What I'm trying to say is that I have a hunch about it and I need to…I don't know, get a look at those people's last known locations. It might help me- help me get a better idea of whether or not my idea's right. Please, I know it sounds like I'm pulling crap out of thin air, but I'm really- I have to know, or it'll just keep eating at me."

"All right, then get me a map of the trails in this forest."

"Get- What?" I asked stupidly, disconcerted when the argument I'd expected didn't come.

"A map – I need something to look at so I can find the places we're looking for."

I hurried to fetch Charlie's copy of the hiker's guide to the forests of Forks and spread it on the kitchen table, then paced restlessly while Peter got the lay of the land. When he announced that he knew where everyone had vanished from the trails, I let out a sigh of, not relief, because I couldn't feel relieved until I had found absolute proof of whether or not there was a vampire in the area; not that I would feel better if there was, but at least then I would have something solid to be scared of. That had to be better than the vague, half-formed fears that had plagued me for the past weeks.

"So… are you going to show me where to look?" I moved up beside Peter and bent over the map.

"You bet I will – hang on." Those words made me straighten up, because 'hang on' was what he said before teleporting us, though it was him who held on to me.

###

"Thanks," I muttered as I looked around at the gigantic trees pressing in on the winding trail's edges. "You know, you didn't have to bring me here; you could've just showed me on the map where to go." After a second's consideration I added, "You don't have to stay out here with me if you don't want to," – unwillingly, as I pictured myself getting scared out of my wits, or lost, or both out here alone.

Although dawn had broken, enough light to see Peter's expression had yet to filter through the dense canopy of leaves; in the dark gray dimness, I had to settle for imagining the look he must have thrown my way before saying, "Hey Bella, did I ever tell you you're the dumbest smart person I've ever met? I'm not leaving you by yourself so you can be next on the list of people who've fallen off the face of the earth here-"

"Oh, and me ending up there unless I have you to protect me is a given, is it?" I retorted, contrary out of habit.

I turned away to examine the bloodstained bark of a primordial cedar and pointedly ignored Peter until he sighed and said, "No, I'm not trying to say you can't take care of yourself… Do you want me to go?"

Biting my lip, I shook my head. "Stubbornness is kind of a way of life for me, but I shouldn't be so argumentative when you're being so nice – I'm sorry. Can we go to wherever those two guys had set up camp before…whatever happened to them now? There's nothing here but some dried blood on a tree."

###

_I don't see how Nancy Drew did it, _I thought in frustration, running my fingers over the shredded nylon remains of the ill-fated campers' tent for the seventh time, yet no closer to determining whether the rips were the work of a vampire or some natural predator's claws. Asking Peter what he thought had gotten me nothing more than an exasperated exclamation ("Before moving here, I lived in Manhattan! How do you think I'd know what made those claw marks?").

Following that, my companion seemed to have decided to leave the CSI work to me, or so I thought until he called me over to look at a huge paw print on the clearing's muddy edge. "That looks like-"

"A dog print," Peter finished. My eyebrows shot up. "What? There are dogs and mud in New York, Bella; I do know what a dog's footprint looks like."

"Yeah, but does New York have dogs big enough to leave _this_?" I tapped the freakishly large print with the toe of my sneaker. It was a perfectly casual action, one that gave no discernible sign of the waves of relief crashing through every cell of my conscious mind – whatever had left this imprint on the ground, it was absolutely _not_ a vampire. No matter what the problem turned out to be, it was now safely removed from me.

"No…" His voice trailed off and he spun around, eyes widening as they swept the trees and dim empty spaces between them for I didn't know what.

"Peter, what's wrong?" Upon receiving no answer I gave our surroundings a perfunctory glance to confirm that there was nothing alarming that he'd seen and I hadn't; then I tugged at his sleeve to remind him I was still here. "Hey! Hey, what's the matter?"

Peter's reply was short and terse. "Shh, I'm trying to listen."

"To what? There's nothing here to hear!" I objected, affronted at being shushed like an unruly child, though I instantly regretted taking this strident tone. For some reason I had yet to put my finger on, it always irritated me when Peter treated me in any way that could be interpreted as condescension; of course he didn't mean it that way, but his intentions changed nothing about the fact that being hushed grated on my nerves.

My friend was too intent on the invisible something to notice my annoyance. "You mean there's nothing for _you_ to hear because you're not a telepath," he told me quietly, keeping his voice barely above a whisper.

Ice flooded my veins. If Peter was hearing someone or something's thoughts, then we had company that was capable of truly thinking – that meant something more than an animal, but something dangerous or just another human? We were on a hiking trail, after all. But Peter wouldn't freeze up like this over a random hiker… "What is it?" I whispered urgently.

"I don't know – I've never heard anything like this. If I didn't know better, I'd say I'm hearing a lot of minds linked together… See if you can sense anything."

Obediently, I closed my eyes and focused on the new sense that told me when I was near another posthuman. I'd used it before with my eyes open and seen my fellow specials' abilities as a bright spot in the cranium, but never with my eyes shut. This time the lights exploded, bright and searing behind my eyelids, forcing me to pull away from Peter. I turned my attention outward instead and found what he was hearing: several minds that seemed to be in constant communication, although their owners were fanned out all through the forest.

This mental network was something I'd neither seen nor heard of before today, not even in Dr. Suresh's book, and I was suddenly sure that whatever was out there was nothing like me, Claire, or even Peter and Sylar; this was a different thing, and I didn't like it one bit. I reached out for the closest mind and flipped off its telepathy, then sent my negating impulse through the link to turn them all off. "That's got _you_ fixed," I whispered with satisfaction as the glowing threads connecting them disconnected and went dark.

I switched back to my regular vision and looked at Peter, grinning proudly as I waited for him to say I'd done well, but he hadn't opened his mouth before anything he might have said was drowned in a storm of howls that seemed to come from every direction. Worse, those awful sounds bounced off the trees, echoing until it was impossible to tell where they were coming from – one of the howling creatures could be running at us now!

It was over as suddenly as it began. The howling fell silent at the same instant that the shadows cast by the forest's enormous trees were replaced by glaring sunlight. I squeezed my eyes shut again, blinded by the abrupt change in lighting; when I could open them, I was alarmed to find myself in a completely unfamiliar place.

Fighting down a surge of panic, I looked around for Peter, found him still beside me although he hadn't kept his grip on me any longer than necessary to teleport me with him – he never did – and reached out to grasp his wrist just to hold onto something familiar, something safe. "Where exactly are we?"

"Texas."

"_Texas_?" I shrieked. "Holy crow, that's at the other end of the country from Washington! Is there any particular _reason_ we're in Texas?"

Peter shrugged and gave me a sheepish grin. "Because this was the first place I thought of. I'll take you home now if you want me to, or we could grab something to eat while we're here; I don't know about you, but I haven't eaten anything since last night."

I opened my mouth to say I wanted to go home, but my stomach had other ideas, rumbling hungrily before I got a word out. Flushing with embarrassment, I looked down and muttered, "All right, I'm hungry too…but I don't have any money with me…"

"No problem; I'll pay for whatever you want. C'mon." Peter pulled his wrist out of my too-tight hold and took my hand instead to tug me toward the Burnt Toast Diner across the street. When I hesitated, he turned back to me and said, "Seriously, I don't mind picking up the tab; you can pay me back if it makes you feel better. And I'll get you home before Charlie knows you're gone – he can't even ground you for going to Texas on a school night since this is Saturday."

Reassured, I laughed and put up no further resistance as he led me into the diner.


	10. I'm With You

**Apologies to everyone for taking an ungodly amount of time to write; let me assure you, though, that I am not abandoning this story, and here's another apology to anyone who seemed to think I was based on a couple of reviews… but I'm not! It's not over till it's over, right? **

**Shout-outs: to all the readers who've alerted this story; none of my stories have ever gotten this many! You guys rock and I wish I had cookies for all of you. To pixie freak – I can't express how much I appreciate your incredible interest in my story and encouragement to keep writing. You keep me from getting too lazy and I never expected anyone to care about updates so much – thank you x 1,000,000.**

Chapter 10: I'm With You

"Bella, your ice cream's melting."

A look down at the dish in front of me showed that melt_ed_ was more accurate. "Oops," I muttered, swirling my spoon through the mottled puddle of hot fudge sauce and vanilla ice cream that had formed while my attention was otherwise occupied. "It's your fault, you know. You shouldn't tell these fascinating stories while I'm trying to eat." I punctuated this statement with a reproachful look across the table.

"You asked for it," Peter unrepentantly reminded me. "And fascinating is a stretch."

"A stretch!" I scoffed. "An invisible man throwing you off the roof of a thirty-story building sounds pretty dang fascinating to me-"

"To me it was more like terrifying, and then infuriating after the son of a bitch said 'you could've flown instead'. Ah well, I should shut up now – I haven't let you get three words in since you ordered dessert."

"Not your fault; like you said, I did ask about your life pre-Forks. Of course, I would have finished my sundae first if I'd known your life story was the kind of thing that would make me forget about eating till my ice cream was all melted. I hate melted ice cream," I said sadly, giving the puddle a resentful poke with my spoon. "Do you want it?"

"Sure, thanks."

I was past being taken by surprise when the dish slid across the table apparently of its own accord, but I couldn't suppress a knee jerk reaction when Peter used the spoon I'd left in it. "You're eating with something that's been in my mouth? That's not very hygienic, you know." My nose wrinkled as I thought of the enlarged pictures of bacteria I'd seen in old biology textbooks. "Aren't you afraid I might make you sick?"

He rolled his eyes. "You could never make me sick, Bella. It's a regeneration thing," he added when I raised my eyebrows.

"Oh, so you can survive roof diving _and_ flu season. Is there anything you can't do?"

"Sure there is: I can't fly to the moon without suffocating…and I can't figure out what you're still doing here."

Confused, I asked, "What do you mean? You brought me here, and I can't exactly walk home from Midland, Texas now, can I?"

"You could've had me take you home a lot sooner."

"Oh." I gazed out the window to hide the dismay on my face. It was really too much to hope that I could spend as much time as I had around Peter without him starting to wonder just how desperate for company I was. "Maybe I'm not in any hurry to go home."

"You're not? I never would've guessed that from you not asking to go back once in…how long have we been here? More than an hour at least. What I wanna know is _why_ you're not in a hurry to go home. I mean, it's a Saturday; shouldn't you be getting ready for a date tonight or something like that?"

Blood rushed to my face, staining my cheeks scarlet. "No, I- I don't have a boyfriend right now."

"You can go out with someone without him being your boyfriend, can't you?"

I shook my head. "You don't understand. What I mean is that I don't date _at all_ – exclusively or otherwise."

Peter pushed aside the now empty ice cream dish and gave me a look of – what, incredulity? "Now that I don't believe," he informed me, crossing his arms on the table and leaning closer. I leaned away, uncomfortable with his intense stare and the subject.

"Believe whatever you want, it's still true," I mumbled. He said nothing for a long moment until I had to risk a glance at his face; he was frowning, either perplexed by what I'd said or thinking I was lying. "What are you thinking?" I all but whispered, more worried than I'd ever imagined I would be about him saying he thought I was socially impaired to the point of being pathetic.

"I'm thinking it's strange, a girl like you never getting asked out – or do you turn everyone down?"

"The only guy who asks me out is Mike Newton; I turn him down. Mike's not unlikeable, though, he just doesn't interest me," I admitted.

Peter turned that over for a second before saying, "It sounds like most people don't interest you, Bella."

"That's not true! You interest me a lot," I blurted, stung by what I considered an unfair assessment, without realizing the implication of those words. Peter's dark eyes widened and he seemed to choke on thin air. "I mean," I hastily amended, "you're an interesting person and I like being with you, but I didn't mean…that you interest me _that_ way."

He relaxed. "Oh, good."

"Is it?"

"Well, yeah… Look, I'm not saying you're not pretty, Bella – you are, okay, you're more than pretty – and you're smart and funny and I wish I knew more people that I liked half as much as you, but you're still a kid-"

"I'm eighteen!" I said, affronted.

"Yeah, you're an eighteen-year-old who still goes to high school, lives with her dad, and probably has a curfew during the week…so I can't really say you interest me that way either."

"Right," I agreed, "of course not. You're right – that is…what's best for both of us." Where was the less than sincere note in my voice coming from? "But we are friends, right?"

"Of course we are; I just told you you're practically my favorite person in the world, except for Claire and that's different – she's family. Anyway, you're not wrong about it being for the best that we aren't dating, considering that all my relationships have broken up after a while – well, all except for the last two," he added with a grimace.

"Except for the last two?" I repeated; now I was frowning as well. "What, you didn't break up with the last two?"

He shook his head no. "Nope, Simone's dead – she got shot – and Caitlin was trapped in the future after I accidentally teleported away and left her there. I doubt she's still alive, since ninety-three percent of the world's population had been killed by a virus-"

"Ninety-three percent of the world's population gets killed by a virus?" I repeated shrilly. "_That's_ the future? Must be time to make sure my vaccinations are up to date."

Peter's mouth twisted in the way that meant he was holding back laughter, then he said, "That's always a good idea, but you don't need to worry about the Shanti virus. I was there, and I can promise you the last of it's been destroyed."

I sat staring, awed into silence. Really, what could I say to someone who had prevented the complete breakdown of civilization? Although he hadn't come right out and said he'd been the one to destroy the virus, I knew he had to have done it; as far as I knew there wasn't anyone else there who could generate radiation, and I didn't know of anything else that would destroy something as tiny and persistent as a genetically engineered virus with any kind of certainty.

Then there was that radioactive power itself; I hadn't heard the whole story of how Peter got it yet, but I did know a bit about some conspiracy to use him or another radioactive posthuman to blow up New York City. Obviously Peter and company had put a stop to said conspiracy and presumably caught the dastardly plotters behind it and given them their just deserts, although he had yet to tell me exactly who those plotters had been or what had happened to them.

Finally Peter asked, "What's wrong, Bella?"

"Oh, nothing much," I sighed. "I'm just feeling extremely inferior right now. I mean, here you've exploded, had your memory erased, and who knows what else, but you handled it and still managed to save the world. Don't argue about the wording, you did," I said firmly when he opened his mouth to say I was exaggerating. "Then there's me, and I can't handle my own problems, which are really…inconsequential compared to yours without turning into a zombie-"

"A zombie?" Peter interrupted. "You don't seem like a zombie, not that I've ever met one to compare you to."

"I'm better now," I said quickly. "I guess Charlie hasn't told you about it-" I made a face "-but there was a time when I really was more dead than alive. It only stopped after my run-in with Sylar – after I got jarred back into the world, you could say." _But I wouldn't have been able to stand being back if it wasn't for you and Claire, _I added silently, grateful for my unreadable mind.

Peter's voice was quieter when he asked, "What happened to make you that way? You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but if you do…"

I considered it, then asked, "All those things you've been through – does talking about it make it better?"

"It's not the same, since that stuff didn't tear me up enough to make me a zombie. But if something does happen that's so bad it's eating you up, why hold it in?"

Still, I hesitated. I had held this in for so long – locking away all my memories of _him_, struggling not to think of him while terrified that someday I would forget him – that I wasn't sure I was capable of digging it out, much less discussing it. _This is Peter, though – the guy who got up way too early and teleported me all over the forest just because I asked him to. If there's anyone I can talk to, it's him. _

"Okay, I'll try opening up, but it won't be easy." Looking down to the tabletop, I searched for words and awkwardly began, "It's…there was this guy…" I swallowed the hard lump forming in my throat before continuing; this was harder than I'd anticipated. "He was my boyfriend, and I- I was in love with him. I-" That was as far as I got before my voice cracked and the liquid gathering in my eyes spilled over.

Keeping my eyes down, I tried to wipe the tears discreetly, only stopping when I felt Peter's hand close around the one of mine I'd left on the table. I twisted my hand in his so I could grip back; it felt strange to be this close to someone – not just physically but emotionally as well – but it was definitely not unpleasant. Actually, it was the best feeling I'd had in a long time.

"So let me guess, this guy didn't love you as much as you loved him. He ditched you?"

I nodded; I couldn't speak. When I could, I sounded half-strangled. "I-I wanted to be with him for-forever," I gasped between the sobs that weren't as under control as I'd thought. "But - he and his family - they just _left_. He said he'd l-let things go on much too long between us and that he…he was tired of pretending."

By the time I finished that sentence my crying had picked up to the point where I couldn't speak clearly anymore. Nor could I breathe; I gasped for air, but my lungs seemed to take in nothing. I tried to fold up into a ball so I could hold myself together. I hadn't felt this hole in my chest for so long that I had begun to believe I was healed; maybe I would have been, if only I hadn't pulled my memories out of the back of my mind where they had lain more or less harmlessly buried.

I didn't expect to be aware of anything outside of my pain, but somehow I managed to notice when Peter pulled his hand out of my grip and circled around to my side of our table so he could take me by the shoulders and drag me out of my chair. Dimly, I realized that my hysterics must be embarrassing him. _He's probably making a mental note not to be seen in public with me again; _that thought ratcheted the waterworks into an even higher gear, impossible though that had seemed a second ago.

"I'm sorry, Bella – I wouldn't have made you talk about this if I'd known it'd do this to you, it's my fault…" The words washed over me meaninglessly; I did, however, register that he didn't sound angry or disgusted. That was all the invitation I needed to throw myself at him and press my face into his chest to muffle the strangled sobs and whimpers that ripped from my throat whenever I had enough air to produce any sound at all.

He stiffened, and if I'd had any leftover emotional capacity I was sure I would have felt awkward too since we'd never had this much physical contact, certainly not of this kind; then he relaxed and wrapped his arms around me. You couldn't say he pulled me close, as it was impossible for us to get any closer than we already were, but he did hold me in a sort of one-armed hug while his other hand came up to the back of my head, his fingers tentatively stroking my hair. He didn't say anything, which was just as well since I wasn't able to pay attention.

This felt nothing like the last time I'd been held this way – for one thing, Peter's body wasn't cold against mine, or hard. Well, maybe his muscles were hard; still, that was quite a change from hard skin. Feeling his heartbeat was new, too, and oddly comforting. Actually, everything about this should-have-been-uncomfortable embrace felt nice, nicer than I had imagined anything could be for me ever again.

I couldn't tell how long we stood like that before my tears stopped at last. Drained and faintly exhausted from my crying fit and emotional tension, I stayed still for several long moments, leaning on Peter for support as my breathing slowly got back to normal so that I no longer felt like I was suffocating. Perhaps the man holding me also had something to do with that; in his arms, I no longer felt like I was falling apart. In fact, I felt more together than ever before, maybe not completely healed but on the way to healing, not damaged irreparably after all.

I stayed where I was until Peter asked, "You okay now?"

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes and craned my neck to look up, meeting his eyes as he looked down at me, his expression somewhere between concern and relief that I'd stopped crying. "Honestly, I don't know if I'm okay yet. But I think I will be, and that's new. Thank you, Peter."

"You don't need to thank me for…wait, what are you thanking me for? All I've done is get you on a subject that made you do a great imitation of a fire hydrant."

It was a funny comparison; a watery smile spread over my face. "Yeah you have," I told him quietly. "I've never been able to talk about this with anyone till now, and even if it did turn me into a human hydrant I feel better for having shared it with someone. It's better than being alone with it, you know?"

"I know." He held me tighter for a second, and I turned my head so I could rest it on his chest without burying my face again in his now-soaked shirt. Then he gently but firmly pushed me away. "I'm always here if you want to talk any more, but for now you should drink some water so you don't dehydrate after all that crying."

He walked away, most likely to get me a glass of water, and I noticed for the first time that we'd teleported from the Burnt Toast Diner to the living room of his and Claire's house in Forks. Still slightly shaky, I sat on the couch, feeling tenser than I ever had before while I was here, two big worries taking shape in my mind. One was whether or not Peter had left money for our food before leaving the diner and whether he'd been sure no one was watching before he teleported.

The other, bigger one was whether Claire was home and, if she was, if she had seen me fall to pieces and cry on her uncle's shoulder – well, chest, actually, as I wasn't tall enough to put my head on his shoulder unless he was sitting down, but still… I cast a furtive look around the room, but nowhere did I see a shell-shocked blonde ex-cheerleader gaping at me. Maybe for once I'd been lucky and she wasn't here.

I did however see Peter returning from the kitchen with water for me; my lips curled into an involuntary smile at the sight of him. "What are you looking so happy about? Never mind, just drink this." I took the glass and obediently began drinking while he sat down, next to me on the sofa but somehow too far away for my liking. He watched me with that intense, silent stare of his to make certain that I really was all right before asking, "Do you need to talk about anything else, or d'you want me to take you home now?"

"I can take myself home; I've taken up enough of your time already." It had been before dawn when we went into the woods, and now the faint, hazy light coming through the windows was from the west – not twilight yet, but definitely afternoon.

"Hey." The reproving tone instantly captured my full attention, but Peter still reached over and squeezed my hand as if he had to get it. "You're not taking up my time, Bella, okay? I wouldn't spend it with you if I didn't want to. And you can't take yourself home – you don't have your truck, remember?"

My gaze automatically flicked to the window through which I could see the driveway although I knew he was right. "Oh, right. Crap. I guess you're still stuck being my personal taxi service, then."

"There are worse jobs to be stuck with." Peter let go of my hand then and we sat in silence until I'd drained the last drop of my water.

I swallowed and said, "Um, I- I didn't tell you the worst part of- of when my boyfriend left…" Having discovered how helpful talking about things like this could be, I wanted to get it all out while the subject was already open.

"You don't have to."

"I know, but I want to; it really does make it-"

"No, I mean I don't need you to tell me. You said you wanted to be with that guy forever, so I'm guessing that when he took off it wasn't like just losing another person, it was losing everything you wanted for the rest of your life – losing your whole life, in a way… Huh, that sounds kinda like a bad line from the sappy movie of the week, doesn't it?"

"It does, completely, but that's exactly how I felt." I frowned. "Does that make me really pathetic?"

"Umm…maybe just a little bit? It's understandable, I guess. Does this have anything to do with why you don't like to be alone?"

My frown deepened. "Can't you keep the empath stuff to mimicking abilities? This understanding me so well creeps me out sometimes." If I'd hoped to distract him, it didn't work. Sighing, I continued. "Yes, that's why I'm around here so much. Because it seemed like there was nothing left for me, and…and when I'm with you and Claire, I feel like I belong somewhere. Hey, I'm being serious here!" I complained when I saw his amused smirk.

"Don't worry, I'm not making fun of you. I just remembered something – what you said, that feeling like you've found something that you're part of, that you belong to? That was how it felt when I met Claire."

"Did it really?" I smiled as another jolt of that feeling of things falling into place like puzzle pieces clicking together rushed down my spine. "Is that because we're all…you know, different?"

"I don't think so; I've met a lot of other people like us without feeling anything special. I think it's more to do with _who_ we than _what_ we are. Tell me something, Bella – do you only like Claire and me because we're different and you happen to be like us?"

"Of course not!" The question shocked me because posthumans were so rare compared to the two-point-whatever billion people on Earth, one or two or all three of us could easily have been normal; the idea of not liking Peter or Claire because of something so random and inconsequential as a chromosomal quirk was frankly appalling. "No, I don't care about that! Sure it makes things more interesting, but you don't need superpowers to make me like you! You're special without that, you and Claire both," I insisted.

"So are you."

###

We hung out a while longer, during which it became obvious that Claire was indeed not in the house, him watching the news while I took advantage of their much faster internet service to do online research for my government homework. I finally finished just as the news program cut to a commercial, the announcer promising that the five o'clock news would be back shortly.

"Five o'clock? Is it really that late?"

Peter checked the clock on the DVD player that sat one shelf below the TV. "More like ten after now, why? Mike finally wear you down?"

"No, I do not have a date with Mike Newton tonight," I informed him, sticking out my tongue. "I work at his family's store, and I've missed my whole shift!"

"Damn." The remote had vanished, so Peter turned the television off by simply touching it.

"You should still find the remote – Claire needs it even if you don't," I reminded him. He rolled his eyes but didn't argue; with a flick of his fingers, the remote flew from between the sofa cushions where it had fallen to its place atop the TV set. "That's better. _Now_ we can go."

**This is my last update on this story before I take a short break to finish my other one (which totally doesn't count as discontinuing and won't be for very long) and after TIYBW is done, Resurgence will be my only ongoing project. The action picks up in the next chapter and then the rest of the story is faster-paced than it has been so far, so this really is the best pausing point, trust me. **


	11. Fear of Falling

**Issue I'd like readers' opinion on: I've been thinking about writing a companion piece for this story to give it a different perspective than just Bella's, since the 'single narrator' approach limits what I can write about to events she's aware of and her perception of them, and I've come up with a lot more that could be in here. Does that sound like a worthwhile endeavor, or should I save my time and only focus on this fic? Please let me know your preference, and as always I'd love comments on this chapter too (hint, hint)!**

Chapter 11: Fear of Falling

I gulped nervously as I approached Mrs. Newton, who was manning the checkout counter thanks to the absence of employees. Why hadn't she gotten Mike to do it? "Mrs. Newton? I'm so sorry I didn't come in today; I just…lost track of time…" The words trickled to a halt as I realized that she didn't look the least bit angry; on the contrary, she was _smiling_.

"It's fine, Bella; Mike had the day off, so there's no reason you shouldn't, too. You're such a good worker, you shouldn't feel bad about missing one day – especially not today."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, feeling like there was some joke I was missing. For an answer, Mrs. Newton tapped a calendar hanging on the bulletin board to her right. Eyebrows knitting in confusion, I checked it; I already knew it was a Saturday, and I'd had an idea that we were in the middle of February, so no surprises there.

As I scanned the calendar, a vague memory came back to me of Tyler trying to scare Lauren and Katie Marshall yesterday by telling them that another hiker was bound to disappear because it was Friday the thirteenth… Friday…the thirteenth? If yesterday was the thirteenth, then today must be… I double-checked the column of Saturdays and sure enough, there it was. Today was the fourteenth of February – Valentine's Day.

Mrs. Newton was still chattering; I tuned in just in time to hear her say, "…Wonder why I didn't hear that you had plans today? Mike talks about you all the time, but he never mentioned that you're seeing someone new." I followed her curious stare over to where Peter had busied himself with the magazine rack, keeping a polite distance so I could converse in relative privacy.

"What? You think that I'm- that he and I- No, no, Peter's just a friend! A very good friend," I qualified when Mrs. Newton gave me a look which seemed to hold a hint of skepticism, "but still just a friend."

"Oh… Well, if you say so," Mrs. Newton said doubtfully. "He does look older than you anyway, not that that matters so much after you leave high school, and graduation isn't that far away…" This conversation was becoming more embarrassing with every passing second; I excused myself as quickly as I could without being blatantly rude.

Peter, having no interest in staying to shop, wasn't at all reluctant to leave, so less than a minute passed until I was facing my front door, watching the key fly toward me from under the eave. I plucked it out of the air and leaned on the door, seeing that it was too late in to ask him in. "Will you be okay here till Charlie gets in?"

I raised my eyebrows. "What are you worried about, me taking another depressing trip down memory lane or the thing that made that paw-print in the woods figuring out how to open the door without opposable thumbs, squeezing inside, and eating me?" However much I didn't feel like saying goodbye yet, neither did I want him sticking around just to make sure I was safe rather than because he wanted to.

"You got upset after talking to your boss. Was she mad that you missed work?"

"Not really, she just said I'll have to work extra hours next time to make it up," I fibbed. I wasn't about to admit that I had gotten flustered over learning it was Valentine's Day. Today's date meant nothing anyway – February fourteenth was no different from any other day unless you were _with_ someone. Spending the day with one of my best friends definitely did not count, even if it was the one who happened not to be a girl.

"That sucks." He still made no move to leave.

I sighed. "Look, you can go. You've done the hero thing already by uncovering my emotional scar; you don't need to stay here to guard me from giant wild dogs or home invaders too."

"I know I don't, I just thought… I don't know. Seeing you and not working on your power was different, it was-"

"Nice?"

"Yeah, it was. We should do it again – I promise I won't make you cry next time."

"That'll be easy since you didn't make me cry this time. I did plenty of crying over that before I ever met you. You made me feel better. Now you should go – Claire's probably wondering where you are, and I need to make Charlie's dinner." I reached to unlock the door, fumbling as my eyes remained glued to Peter.

His gaze was likewise glued to me, searching for some assurance that he really hadn't traumatized me by probing into my past. I felt my heart speed up, my lungs expanding and contracting more and more rapidly as I stood frozen; I always froze when he got intense like this. When he did, I could easily imagine him taking on Sylar, the Company, or even an airborne virus to save the world, and it – whatever _it_ was that pushed him to do those things instead of trying to get rid of his powers by ignoring them and letting them atrophy or using them for strictly self-serving purposes – it held me, mesmerized me, fascinated me.

It was strange – after meeting the Cullens I'd thought nothing could compare to their bewildering, dazzling perfection. Now I was discovering that humans, or at least one human, could dazzle me as well, even without that flawless beauty; it was a discovery that set my head spinning.

Peter blinked, releasing me at last, but before I could escape he said, "Hey, you never said what the guy's name was, or is that off-limits?"

Of course his name was off-limits, it was the one thing that caused me worse pain than everything else combined! "Edward – his name is Edward Cullen." I clamped a hand over my mouth, shocked that those words had popped out regardless of how muddled I was at the moment.

"I have to go now. Good night." Once again my body acted independent of my brain, saying goodbye and moving me inside to the couch, where I collapsed and wrapped my arms around my ribcage, waiting for the pain to hit now that I had broken the most absolute of my rules.

I waited a long time, regulating my breathing by the rhythmic sound of the clock until I was certain that I would stop drawing breath if the clock stopped ticking.

###

"Bells, honey, what are you doing in here?" I blinked, disoriented as the lights flicked on to dispel the darkness that had settled around me while I lay oblivious.

"Dad?" I mumbled. Stupid question – who else would it be? I uncurled and got stiffly to my feet, stretching my protesting muscles. Glancing at my respirator, the clock, I was dismayed to find that it was almost nine-thirty, and I hadn't done a thing towards fixing dinner. "Crap! I'm sorry, Dad, I must have dozed off!" This was a lie. I knew perfectly well that I had not dozed off; I had locked down to wait out one more paralyzing attack of the old black hole in my chest emptying me from the inside – no one could fall asleep waiting for that.

Somehow dinner materialized on the table and was declared delicious by Charlie, despite my cooking on autopilot. Every bit of my focus was occupied with _when the hell did Peter Petrelli start to affect me like this? _Yes, he'd always made me tongue-tied, awkward, awed, maybe even a tiny bit jealous – that last feeling had also been directed at Claire once or twice – but never dazzled me. How could he, when he was…not Edward?

Edward was the only person I had ever or could ever love, so he was the only one who should be able to dazzle me into telling him whatever he wanted to know – except now Peter had somehow done that too, which made no sense at all. There was no logical reason I should react that way to him, no matter how amazing or caring he was…how much better I felt with him…or if Mrs. Newton had mistaken us for a couple…

_Yeah right, like that would ever happen. _So ridiculous, I didn't give it another second of conscious thought; instead I stuffed my head under my pillow and let myself drift off into dreams I hoped would be less nonsensical.

###

That hope was dashed in the morning – Karen Newton's suggestion that Peter was more than a friend to me must have lodged in my subconscious because I was sure he'd been in my dreams, as had Edward. I couldn't remember who if anyone else was there, nor any details, which might be a very good thing. Or it might lead to more infuriating thoughts that went nowhere but in circles as I tried to recall exactly what I'd dreamed about doing, and with whom. "Get a grip already!" I growled at my reflection, thumping my head against the mirror.

"You cannot, _will not_, have those feelings for Peter Petrelli! He's already said he doesn't like you as anything more than a friend – probably the same way he likes Claire, plus the fact that she's also family. Which of course means he really likes her better. For crying out loud, haven't you learned your lesson about liking someone who doesn't like you? How much more pain and rejection do you want?"

After finishing this short soliloquy, I stood glaring at my reflection as if waiting for some response – which finally came in the form of Charlie knocking on the door. "Bell, are you almost done? You've only got half an hour to eat breakfast and get to school, and I need a shower before going down to the station…" I head-butted the mirror again.

###

Shuffling into English with seconds to spare, I half expected Claire to jump up and yell at me for thinking I might possibly like her uncle more than I should, so it was something of a shock to hear her say, "Hey, Bella! Have a good weekend?" as if all was right with the world. I stared dumbly at her, wondering if 'have a good weekend' was a clever way of tricking me into admitting that I'd enjoyed my Saturday (_which turned out to be Valentine's Day,_ a nasty little voice in my head reminded me) with Peter way too much.

As I raced to come up with a defense, an excuse, anything, the bell rang. "Bella, sit down!" Claire hissed, reaching up to hook her fingers over the front pocket of my jeans and pull me into my seat just as Mr. Berty entered the classroom. She gave me funny glances throughout the next hour, making me feel like an amoeba squirming around in a milliliter of water while a scientist watched through her microscope; when it grew unbearable I gave her my best death glare and hunched over my notebook.

Glaring made Claire keep her eyes off me, but also had the unfortunate side effect of making me feel like a rotten best friend. She stalked out without a word the instant the bell rang, forcing me to corner her in the hall to apologize. "Jeez, Bella, did you miss your coffee or what? First I say hi and you look at me like I'm from another planet, then you give me the evil eye when I'm just checking if you're okay – what's with you?" Her ability to sound genuinely concerned and still make it clear that I wasn't yet forgiven was astounding.

"Yeah, missed my coffee, that's right." Finding a premade excuse, I seized on it. "Lack of caffeine ties my nervous system in all kinds of knots, but I shouldn't take it out on you and I'm very, very sorry."

Claire held her stern expression just long enough to worry me before her usual smile slid back into place. "Then I'll see you at lunch."

She sauntered off, leaving me alone to kick myself for being an utter imbecile.

###

I was really very lucky that Claire wasn't the type to hold a grudge over one-time weird behavior. By the time my alarm went off on Wednesday morning, I'd arrived at the conclusion that this week would be the kind of miserable one I couldn't survive if I had to deal with an angry Claire on top of my other problem.

Shockingly, Peter was not my problem; his absence was, not that it was out of the ordinary. He and I didn't normally see one another during the week, him being at work and me in school or doing homework and errands so I would be free on the weekends – necessary because weekends were the only times that I went to his place or he came to mine (depending on if and for how long Charlie was out) to practice with my shield.

We could only keep at that for so long before it exhausted me (something I insisted wouldn't happen if he didn't cheat by using a different power as soon as I blocked one) and it was perfectly regular for us to converse during any intermittent pauses, yet neither of us ever forgot that our main purpose was my training, not socializing. Last weekend was the sole exception, so why was a single exception all it took to make me miss him?

At first I tried to deny that I _was_ actually missing him, but there was no other justification for the way my mood soured steadily as the hours dripped by and melted into days (_when did time start warping? I swear the clock's hands move slower every time I look at the thing!_). In all that time, I never once ran into Peter in town, nor did he ever call me, simultaneously frustrating me – honestly, did he vanish off the face of the earth on all the days that didn't start with an 'S' – and causing an absurd sense of relief.

The only reason for being relieved to not see Peter was if I was afraid of doing something wrong around him – acting like my fondness for him extended beyond platonic friendship. But of course that fear was silly, because I'd already made up my mind never to like him that way. The slight flutter of panic I felt whenever I tried to imagine our next meeting was absolutely pointless…wasn't it?

Thursday morning found me so desperate for something, anything, to take my mind off _him_, I would almost have been pleased if Sylar reappeared in Forks or if those man-eating wild dogs really had been a vampire, like I'd thought before seeing the prints. "Stupid, useless vampires and brain-stealing serial killers," I muttered as I sat in my truck, having just realized that my brilliant plan to fill my extra time by arriving at school early was less brilliant if the school wasn't open yet, "never around when you need them."

I rested my forehead on the steering wheel, only to jerk upright when Claire appeared beside the truck and tapped on my window. "What are you doing here so early?" I asked after unlocking the door so she could get in out of the light drizzle.

"I meant to wait and try to catch you before everyone else got here, but now I get to skip the waiting part. Did you sleep here or what?"

Choosing not to get into that, I sidestepped the question. "What do you want to talk to me about that's so top secret you can't discuss it with anyone around?"

"Um, just a little project I've been working on for a while that I think I could really use your help with."

I perked up instantly; whatever else Claire's project might be, it was almost guaranteed to be distracting. "Just tell me what you want me to do – I'm up for anything," I promised.

"I was hoping you'd say that. Here's what we're gonna do…"

**Everything after the last scene break was going to be saved for the next chapter at first, and then I decided putting it here made for better suspense-building – so much more fun that way! Sorry I didn't get in more action like I meant to but it's coming; you won't have to be patient with me much longer, something I'm sure you're all very relieved to hear. Sorry I'm such a slowpoke.**


	12. Be Still My Heart, Pt 1

**Okay, I'm a couple days late with this update – there's finally some fighting, though, so I feel fairly confident that you'll forgive me… or at least I feel optimistic! This chapter has the first preview scene, except I've changed the setting from outside a book store to outside a hotel; you'll see why if you just read for context.**

**Hart S. Topper is my OC, although his ability is somewhat inspired by Lily in Supernatural S2, and yes his name is a cheap play on words – feel free to laugh in private. The place he lives is inspired by the Heavenly Hotel (um, misnomer, anyone?) from the Sammy Keyes series.**

Chapter 12: Be Still My Heart, Pt. 1

"I cannot believe I'm going along with this," I muttered. "You, Claire Bennet, are a horrible, horrible person."

Far from being insulted by this assessment of her character, she laughed. "No I'm not – lighten up. What are you, scared?"

"Yes! Of getting arrested, or expelled, or-"

"_That's_ what you pick to worry about? Bella, no one gets expelled for ditching school _one day_, and the law only says you have to go till you're eighteen…so maybe I'll get arrested, but you won't."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, that makes me feel a lot better! Even if we don't get caught ditching, this still seems like a very bad idea. If you find out there's a posthuman who can give someone a heart attack just by touching them in Seattle, most people would drive the _other_ way!"

Claire sighed and patiently explained, "We aren't most people, Bella. This guy mugs people and uses his power to keep them from ID'ing him to the cops, and we can't sit around in school pretending it's not happening just because it doesn't affect us."

"I'm not saying we should, but couldn't we just, I don't know, tell your dad what's going on and let his company deal with it? Isn't taking people with dangerous abilities off the streets supposed to be their job, not ours?"

She snorted derisively. "Supposed to be, but that doesn't mean they're good at it. They already had this guy locked up, and then there was some kind of accident where all their most dangerous prisoners escaped! It was supposed to be their job to keep everyone safe from Sylar too, remember?" An edge crept into her voice; I knew then that losing her capacity to feel pain wasn't the only consequence of her fateful encounter with the killer – she'd also lost her faith in the organization that should have kept that from happening to her, and probably in her adoptive father by extension.

"You're right, sorry. I get it now." This was something she needed to do, and maybe I did too, because I understood as well as her how it felt to be at the mercy of someone so much more powerful than yourself that they could end your life whenever they felt like it while you were completely helpless to stop them. I'd been there myself with James and again with Sylar, although in that case I hadn't had as long for the terror and hopelessness to set in; it wasn't something I'd wish on my worst enemy.

I fell silent, waiting for Claire to say something else, but she was gone, her lips pressed into a tense line, eyes staring blankly at the road ahead; it didn't look like she'd resurface anytime soon. Sighing, I turned my body to the window – it was going to be a long ride.

However (possibly because I dreaded reaching our destination) time flew, and all too soon Claire was parking in front of a seedy-looking hotel. "Our guy lives _here_?" I asked incredulously. Ordinarily I would run to the other side of the street so as not to get too close to the front doors of a place like this, and now Claire expected me to go inside?

"Yep, this is his last known address." She cast a dubious look at the building; I drew some comfort from the fact that she was no more enthusiastic than I was about entering it.

"And, assuming he's actually in there, what exactly are we going to do – tie him up and toss him in the trunk?"

To my astonishment, Claire took this suggestion seriously. "Well, my plan was to call Dad to come get him-"

"And if your dad happens to not know he's here and be in another state or something?"

"Then I guess we'll have to put him in the trunk after all, or get Peter to teleport him to my dad."

"After which he'll teleport _you_ into the nearest mental hospital," I pointed out. "Me too, for not stopping you. Hey, speaking of him, how were you able to find out about Topper without Peter catching on?" Given that we'd taken Claire's car on this trip – during which she'd squirmed guiltily when I mentioned him – I had an idea that he was in the dark about his niece's new extracurricular activity.

"From Dad's files on the Company's top-security prisoners – I brought copies with me when I moved to Forks just in case any of those people ever showed up in the neighborhood. And no, Dad doesn't know I have them. I looked up where Hart lived before Level Five, Primatech, and this is it."

"Are you sure he came back here? Seems to me like the place you got caught last time is the last place you'd go when you got out."

"Yeah, I don't see the logic there either but he's here, all right. People having heart attacks in the middle of the street for no apparent reason is the kind of thing that eventually makes the newspaper's B-section, so all I did was compare stories from last week with the ones on file that first led Primatech to Topper and put two and two together. Wasn't that hard, really."

Against my will, I was impressed – Claire's detective work and deductions weren't half bad. It was just the practical application that had me worried. Seeming to guess that I was having second thoughts, Claire linked her arm through mine and tugged me forward. "Come on, Bella, if you back out now you'll have blown off school for nothing. As long as you're acting like a delinquent, you might as well get your money's worth."

"You're conveniently omitting the fact that I wouldn't be a delinquent if not for your bad influence…"

"Does this mean you're chickening out?"

I groaned. "No, I already made up my mind to accompany you on your mission of temporary insanity – at least I _hope_ it's temporary – and I always follow through on my decisions. Let's just get this over with."

Claire squeezed my arm and gave me her overly perky cheerleader grin. "That's the spirit!"

I quickened my pace, pulling her along. "Start cheering and you die."

Completely undaunted by that statement – her ability probably made death threats a lot less frightening – Claire kept up the bubbly act long enough to persuade the man at the front desk (inside a small, dimly lit lobby with grimy windows and a lingering stench of cigarette smoke) that Hart S. Topper was expecting us. The man looked us over in a way that made my skin crawl before waving us toward the staircase.

"I think he thought we were hookers or something!" Claire said in an undertone once we were past the first landing and out of the manager's earshot. I shuddered, not only because the idea was repulsive but also because it wasn't an unreasonable explanation for what girls like us would be doing in a place like this. "Well, that's a mistake Topper won't make; if he does, this'll straighten him up fast." She reached into her purse and pulled out a taser.

My eyes widened. "D'you actually know how to use that thing?" At her nod I murmured, "I fear you…like, a lot."

"Me? I'm just an indestructible immortal cheerleader with lethal weapons – I'm harmless."

I let her take the lead since she was the one with the weapon; after a climb that didn't last nearly long enough for my liking we stopped outside room 211, my fearless leader knocking on the door while I hung back, hoping fervently that Hart wasn't at home.

Today wasn't my day, though. The door's peeling paint swung back to reveal an even more unpleasant sight: a scruffy man in his late twenties or early thirties, wearing a pair of jeans that looked on the verge of falling down, a stained undershirt, and a leer.

Left to my own devices I would have fled then and there, but of course it took more than this to faze Claire. "Hart Topper?" she asked coolly.

"Yeah, that's me. What can I do you for?"

"You can let me do this the easy way for once," Claire retorted, whipping the taser out from behind her back.

She fired, Topper grabbed her wrist and twisted it so that the taser was no longer pointing at him, and right on cue I located the hot spot in his adrenal cortex and activated my shield, ensuring that his touch wouldn't have any harmful effects…unless it counted if he succeeded in breaking her wrist. _Still not as bad as a heart attack; she can take it. _

"What the hell?" I had guessed right – Topper had tried to use his ability on Claire, and discovered that he couldn't. His eyes wheeled frantically, finally settling on me. "You!" Wresting Claire's taser from her grip, he pressed it to her forehead, discharging its full voltage directly to her brain; I couldn't tell if she felt it, but her face went blank as she lost consciousness.

Topper dropped her and the taser and lunged through the open door to grab my shoulders. "If your partner happens to wake up, you tell her no way in hell am I going back to that hole of a cell, you hear me?" He shoved me into his room; my breath was knocked from my lungs as I landed hard, the worn carpet hardly cushioning my fall.

I lay stunned until I was flipped onto my back and shaken. "Bella? Bella, wake up!"

"Uhh… Stop shaking me… Claire, get off!" I sat up, bringing myself nearly nose-to-nose with the blonde just in time to see the burn on her forehead heal. "Where's Hart?"

"Gone." She slammed a fist on the floor in frustration. "And catching him'll be harder now that he's made us!"

"Does this mean we're still going after him?" _Please say no, please say no…_

"Yes, we're still going after him! Can you move?"

"Um, I think so?"

"Good." Claire tried to haul me off the ground just as she had after Sylar left me on the Newtons' parking lot, succeeding this time because I was able to cooperate. It might have been smarter to go limp and refuse to let her drag me to my feet, but that course of action, while it might get me out of this mission, also seemed likely to leave me with a dislocated shoulder. "Here, you take this." Claire shoved her purse into my arms and dashed down the stairs.

I followed as fast as I was able, tripping more than once on the twisting staircase and all but falling down the last three stairs into the lobby – where I barely avoided crashing into Claire, who was staring in apparent horror at the front desk and a nearby cluster of chairs. Glancing in that direction, I saw that the manager was slumped over his desk, another man was lying on the floor in front of it, and a man and woman were sprawled in the chairs – all dead, all with the same thunderstruck look on their faces. I quickly looked away.

Claire shook herself and swallowed hard. "We can't let him go, Bella – come on!" Then we were running again.

I was panting after ten steps; running was never easy for a klutz like me, and being thrown off balance by her heavy bag was not helping. Why had I let Claire talk me into this? _Apparently being indestructible doesn't protect her from going crazy! _

Craziness must have been the order of the day – Claire and I had barely cleared the doors of the hotel and hadn't even begun searching the sidewalk for our quarry when everything – pedestrians, cars, even a bird flying over the street – froze around us. "Holy crow!" My voice sounded unnaturally loud in the sudden silence.

Panicked – had I missed something on the news about the End of Days? – I cried, "Claire, what the hell's- Claire!"

My friend was frozen too, still and lifeless as a photograph. I extended my shield to wrap around her as well and she jerked back into animation mid-stride, stumbling as I pulled her to a halt and clapped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened as she took in our motionless surroundings. "What's happening?" she whispered.

"No idea," I whispered back. "Obviously someone like us is doing it, but I don't know who it could be. Let's get out of here, and _keep quiet_!" Claire nodded; I let go and we set off up the street at a jog, with her automatically taking the lead. The instant we rounded the corner a man jumped out at us, swinging what looked like some sort of ninja sword in an arc – an arc perfectly aimed to chop off Claire's head!

**You all know who freezes time and carries what Bella would describe as a 'ninja sword'; I changed this bit to include Hiro thanks to popular request for him to put in an appearance, hope it doesn't come out too awkward. I do have something like a reason for him being in Seattle, and if I'm lucky it won't sound unforgivably stupid. If it does, go ahead and ridicule me – translation: review! Pretty please?**

**My high school graduation is tonight, and we have relatives in town; don't know what effect that'll have on my writing time, but I promise not to dawdle unnecessarily on Pt. 2, so please, no death threats or throwing fruit, anvils, or Edward's piano at me!**


	13. Be Still My Heart, Pt 2

**IMPORTANT: As you've (most likely) already noticed, the summary now says this story has 'vampires, but no Cullens yet'; to elaborate on that, it means that there will eventually be vampires involved, but they won't be the Cullens. The Cullens won't be in Resurgence at all, but they will be in its sequel, which I have some vague plans for. Now that I've laid this all out for you, the next person who asks me about the Cullens will get chased by Sylar… unless you're one of the fangirls who actually likes Sylar, in which case it'll be Arthur Petrelli. You can't possibly find him attractive… right? If anyone says yes, I'm getting Mr. Muggles.**

Chapter 13: Be Still My Heart, Pt. 2

_The instant we reached the corner, a man jumped at us around the building, swinging what looked like a ninja sword in an arc – an arc perfectly aimed to chop off Claire's head! _My shield would be of no use this time; panic wiped all thought from my brain and in its absence, instinct kicked in again. Yanking Claire's bag off my shoulder, I slid the short strap into my hand and used it to swing the heavy purse. To my amazement it found its mark, crashing against the back of the man's head to throw him off balance.

As he fell and lost his grip on the sword, sound and motion flooded back into the world. One of those sounds was some sort of siren headed this way; maybe one of the people in the hotel had used their last seconds of consciousness to call the police or an ambulance. Whoever showed up, it might be a bad idea to hang around until they got here-

"Bella, look out!" Claire's warning hadn't even registered before someone's arms wrapped around me in a chokehold. One of his or her hands stayed on my throat, while the other tore Claire's purse out of my slackened grip and tossed it away – evidently the person didn't want me using it as a weapon again, as if I could.

Ignoring the fact that her purse was perilously close to falling down a gutter, Claire snatched up the sword from where its owner had dropped it and held it to the man's throat. "Let Bella go, or your friend bites it!"

My captor faltered for a second, unsure how likely Claire was to follow through on her threat, but then the arm pressing my windpipe tightened. "If I let go of her, how do I know you won't cut off Hiro's head anyway?" It was definitely a man's voice, with an accent I couldn't place – the one he'd called Hiro looked foreign too, Japanese maybe…

"You _don't_ know what I'll do, but you're strangling Bella! Let go of her!"

I felt the man's breath on the side of my face as he opened his mouth to argue, but another voice interrupted before he had the chance. "Yeah, do let go of Bella." A burst of telekinetic energy pushed me and the man apart and sent him sprawling on the sidewalk; the newcomer caught me under the arms, stopping my fall. I found my feet quickly and pulled away, turning to face my rescuer just as he flickered into the visible spectrum.

"Hey Peter. Don't think I'm not happy to see you, but how'd you get here so fast?"

"Heard somebody say they saw a couple of girls who sounded a lot like you and Claire run out of the hotel right after four people dropped dead in there, so I-"

"Peter Petrelli – help, please!" He and I glanced over and saw that Claire still had the other man, Hiro, in a sort of headlock with the sword against his throat, although she didn't look quite as intent on decapitating him as she had while his friend was attempting to choke me.

"You know this guy, Peter?" she asked suspiciously.

"Yeah, you can let him go now. Give him back his sword, too." Peter waited for the other man to return his weapon to its sheath before asking, "What are you doing here, Hiro, and why was your friend – it's Ando, right? – choking Bella?"

"I stopped time, but the cheerleader – wasn't frozen; I thought she was someone else, so I attacked her-"

"Then her friend hit Hiro on the head with a purse – that's why I was fighting her," Ando jumped in.

During their explanation, my gaze flicked from Peter to Claire and back; Peter obviously had encountered these characters before, but Claire seemed as nonplussed as me. "Okay, listen, I've never seen you before, so how do you know I used to be a cheerleader? Who _are_ you?"

"Hiro Nakamura – I was supposed to help Peter save you from Sylar-"

"Homecoming, in Texas," Peter reminded her.

"Yeah, I remember; I also remember he wasn't there. He wasn't, was he? I mean if he stops time…"

"No, he wasn't there. I met Ando before I went to your school and he said Hiro had traveled back in time to save someone else – I never asked, how'd that work out?"

"It didn't," was Hiro's solemn reply.

"So then you wouldn't have met Hiro, just Ando," I pointed out, feeling that I'd been excluded from the conversation long enough.

"You're right; I met Hiro in Kirby Plaza, election night. Tried to get him to shoot me after I lost control and went nuclear, but Sylar attacked him first and he had to teleport out. After that I didn't see him again till Adam Monroe and I went to Primatech to…well, I thought we were there to destroy the Shanti virus, only it turned out Adam wanted to release it. Hiro came there to stop him and we got into a fight over whether Adam was the bad guy or not. Sorry about that, Hiro."

Hiro nodded. "I forgive you. But now Ando and I must continue our mission to find Hart Topper-"

"Hart Topper?" Peter and Claire repeated in unison, then looked from Hiro to each other. "How do you know about him?" they asked at the same time.

"You first," Claire decided.

"Noah called me yesterday, told me Hart was one of the prisoners who escaped Level Five, that he might come back to Seattle, and asked me to look out for him if the city's heart attack rate picked up. He thought I'd know if it did, since part of my job is picking up the bodies." He sighed and ran a hand over his forehead; it was only then that I noticed he was wearing a paramedic's jacket instead of his usual one.

I caught his hand as it dropped back to his side and squeezed gently. "I'm sorry; I could barely stand to look at those people when- when Claire and I ran out of that hotel after Hart, and being the one that has to clean that up…" I shuddered. "I don't think I could do it."

Instead of answering, Peter pulled his hand out of mine and draped his arm over my shoulders. The light pressure felt somehow comforting although I hadn't been aware of needing comfort a second ago; I leaned into it.

Claire, meanwhile, had picked up the conversation with our Japanese visitors. "So you obviously know all about me, but what about you?"

"I bend time and space," Hiro announced proudly.

"Cool. What about you, Ando?"

"Me? I do not have any special powers, but I'm Hiro's sidekick. That brown-haired girl who hit Hiro – is she your sidekick, or is she another cheerleader?"

Peter laughed; I poked him in the ribs as best I could while his arm was around me. "I am definitely not a cheerleader!" I exclaimed indignantly. "Do I look like the short skirt and pompom type?"

"Ooh, you'd be cute in a cheerleading uniform-" I growled and lunged at Claire, fully intending to see if her hair would grow back if I pulled it out, but her uncle shifted his hold from my shoulders to around my waist, effectively keeping me in place. Claire watched, amused, then turned back to Ando, making sure her swishing ponytail was well out of my reach.

"Bella has her own ability so you can't really call her my sidekick…partner, maybe? She just doesn't have that much experience using it; she's kind of in training right now. But it's Peter that trains her, not me. She has this shield thing that kept her from freezing when you stopped time, and she can block people around her from using their powers; cool, huh?"

Hiro nodded. "Yes, that will be very useful in catching the heart stopping man."

"One thing I don't get, why are you interested in finding him? You get bored with your company in Japan or what?"

"No," Ando explained, "Hiro's father left a very dangerous formula in Yamagato, and a speedster stole it from us after we opened the safe. The man you're looking for used to work with her, stealing things for whoever could pay for them-"

"So you think that he might know who paid for your formula or where the speedster girl is now? Well, maybe we can help you, since it looks like we're all after the same person." I looked at Peter and Claire for approval, which they gave in the form of a "Yeah, okay," and a half-shrug.

I never found out what excuse Peter gave his fellow paramedics for taking off in the middle of the day, but for whatever reason none of them made a fuss about it. After that was dealt with he pulled out a road map of Seattle and used clairvoyance to find Hart, who appeared to be leaving town fast.

We teleported – or rather Hiro and Peter teleported, taking me, Claire, and Ando with them – to an overpass on one of the main traffic arteries out of Seattle just as Hart's old Ford roared onto the other end. He was definitely breaking the speed limit; he must have really been scared once he decided Claire and I had been sent by the Company to recapture him.

Peter's telekinesis brought the Ford to a screeching stop. "Cover me, Bella – I'll get him out." As a matter of fact I'd already extended my shield to cover Peter; he had his own, but I didn't know whether it would stay as strong as mine while his energy was channeled into a bunch of other powers as well. I couldn't say for sure that it wouldn't, but until I knew I wasn't about to take a chance on him getting hurt. I didn't feel like telling him that, so I just nodded dutifully.

"I've got you covered; do your thing, whatever that is." His thing turned out to be ripping the Ford's door off its hinges, grabbing Hart by the front of his shirt and dragging him out of the car, then throwing him one-handed so that he bumped painfully over the pavement and landed less than an inch from Ando's shoes.

Now that Hart was so close, I quickly adjusted my power to simply block his rather than trying to shield four other people from it; the first course of action was much easier than trying to extend my own natural protection beyond myself. Hart scrambled to his feet and grabbed Ando by the throat, a look of horror crossing his face as he realized he couldn't stop Ando's heart.

He could still punch, however, which he proceeded to do with a viciousness I'd never seen before. Being closest to the struggling pair, I tackled Hart; my weight slammed into him with enough force to bring us both crashing to the ground. Ando fell too, but he at least was able to catch himself and pull out of Hart's death-grip.

"You little bitch!" I never saw Hart's fist coming, but I did feel a crushing impact on my nose. Bile rose in my throat as hot wetness gushed over my lips, filling my mouth with a nauseating taste like I'd licked a rusty nail. Somehow we ended up standing; consumed with resisting the urge to vomit, I wasn't aware of whether I got up on my own or Hart pulled me up with him.

Claire kicked him in the gut as he got to his feet, still intent on dealing me as much damage as possible; she wasn't strong enough to knock him down again. Instead he staggered drunkenly, dangerously close to the guardrail. Forgetting that throwing him off the overpass would ruin Hiro's chance to interrogate him, yet not really caring if that made him quit hitting me, I gave Hart another push in that direction.

"Bella, no!" Peter shouted. I couldn't figure out why until I felt a wrenching tug on my wrist and realized what Hart was doing: if he was unable to stop himself plunging to the highway below, he would at least take me with him. I tried to pull away, but even dazed and disoriented he was too strong for me – we tumbled over the guardrail into empty space, and there wasn't a single thing I could do about it.

The nothingness through which I plummeted was both astonishing and horrifying; was this how astronauts felt when they looked out from their spaceships and saw nothing but the black void of outer space surrounding them? Of course I wasn't seeing a black void – the sun was still high enough that everything was well-illuminated, including the highway that seemed to rush up as gravity sucked me toward it. I wondered if I would have time to feel the vehicles whose drivers' reflexes weren't good enough to avoid running over me or if I would already be dead from the impact, my bones and organs crushed to chum as I splattered over the pavement…

My half-fearful, half-dazed thoughts stopped with my momentum, brought to a jerky standstill in midair as Peter caught me for the second time today. "Peter…what…?"

"It's okay, Bella – I've got you."

"I know…but who's got _you_?" I asked, feeling even more stunned as my senses came back up to speed and informed me that Peter hadn't teleported back onto the overpass; he'd caught me and then hovered in the empty space, obviously in complete control even though he had nothing to hold onto…nothing except me, and I was no help at all. In fact I was clinging to him, terrified that at any moment I would fall.

"Nobody's got me; I can fly, remember? Now hold on." I opened my mouth to ask why, and just as quickly clamped it shut again as the world turned upside down. In a sudden burst of speed Peter caught up with Hart and reached out with one hand to snatch his falling body from the air while using his other arm to hold me tighter; I might have tightened my grip on him, but that was clearly impossible – my fingers already ached where they were latched onto his shirt.

In the same instant he caught Hart, Peter pulled out of his dive and, still at the same rocket launcher speed, flew back to the bridge. As soon as we were over the rail he dropped Hart, letting him fall hard on the concrete, but didn't loosen his hold on me until he'd landed. Then he tried to set me back on my feet, but thanks to my arms still being locked around his neck I could barely touch the tips of my toes to the ground.

Unable to get my balance, I staggered and fell against Peter, forcing him to catch me one more time. "Thank you. This makes… how many times have you saved my life now anyway?"

"Huh, two maybe – who's counting?"

"If you were you'd have to count when you destroyed the Shanti virus because I probably would've died if it had been released, so that's…uh, three?" I tried to count; it was much harder than normal with him so close…yet somehow, nowhere near close enough.

I pressed myself to him, he pulled me closer, and we were almost touching noses – when Claire's face popped up in the centimeter of space left between us. "What happened, is Bella hurt?" She took me by the shoulder and tried to turn me to face her; I put up a little resistance, until Peter unwrapped my arms from around his neck and gave me a gentle push toward Claire.

Sighing, I moved away from him and tried to reassure Claire that I was fine. "No you're not; you've got blood all over your face!" I must have looked confused, because she illustrated her point by poking my nose.

"Ow!" I exclaimed, startled by the pain which till now had gone unnoticed.

"There's some blood in a few other places too – Hart banged you up pretty good." Peter pulled my arm out straight and then turned my head from side to side, examining all of my exposed skin for cuts and bruises. His touch on my face and the reassuring tone he used whenever I flinched or whimpered was nice, but missing the intimacy of the moment before. He was detached and clinical now, the way he would act as he treated any bleeding victim of a mugging.

Ironically, the average mugging victim would probably have been comforted – Peter was very good at this – but I just wished he'd quit looking at me like I was just a patient, a job, and look at me like I was Bella…like he had when we were close enough to kiss…

"Bella, stay with me here." I jumped as Peter snapped his fingers in front of my face.

"Huh? What?"

"You looked like you were zoning out there; maybe I should check your head-"

"My head's fine!" I interrupted, flushing. _F__ine except for the fact that I was just thinking about kissing you… _I'd jump off the bridge on my own before saying that. To cover my embarrassment I glanced around and asked, "Hey, where'd Claire go?"

Peter shook his head, grinning slightly. "She decided to leave the medical examination to me and went over there-" he gestured behind me and to the right "-to help Hiro and Ando intimidate Hart."

Frowning at his amusement, I said, "Claire can be very intimidating, you know." He actually snorted. "Well, I find her intimidating. I'm sure you don't – but then, it'd probably take Godzilla to intimidate you and even then you could just blow him up…"

"No, you're just a pushover." I made an indignant noise and glared, but inside I was beaming – because his matter-of-fact tone was offset by a teasing smile that left no trace of the cool, professional paramedic. Even if he was teasing me about my wimpy ways, he was my Peter again and for now there was nobody else getting between us, or paying us any attention at all. It was just the two of us and for however long it lasted, that was fine with me.

**A few parts of this seemed iffy to me, but I couldn't come up with anything better so I decided to just post this and hope I don't lose all my readers because of this crappy chapter! Seriously, I really don't know how I feel about it. For whoever agrees with me that it's not up to par, my apologies. I'll try to make the next one better. **


	14. Human Nature

**This chapter was meant to have more Peter/Bella-ish interaction, which sadly had to be postponed until the next one or this would be way too long! On a more positive note, I like this one much better than the last – there's some important character development-centered stuff here, and even a bit more action (albeit unintended). Huge thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter without hauling me over the coals for it, hope you enjoy this one as much, or more if you thought ch13 could've been better.**

Chapter 14: Human Nature

Hart insisted that he hadn't been in contact with the speedster, Daphne Millbrook, since his escape from Primatech and had no idea where she was or for whom she might be working now; Peter telepathically cross-examined him and confirmed that everything he said was true, so Hiro and Ando decided to leave, but not before they both thanked me profusely for pulling Hart off Ando.

My eyes dropped to the ground and I mumbled a nearly inaudible 'you're welcome'; I was accustomed to thanking someone else for saving me, not vice versa. In this abrupt reversal of my usual situation, I had no idea what to do.

Hiro tilted his head, meeting my downcast eyes thanks to the fact that there was less than an inch's difference in our heights. "Why do you not look happy?" he asked curiously.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You saved Ando – you are a hero now, like your friends, but you do not seem happy about it."

I looked away. "You've got it all wrong… What I mean is, I'm no hero, really, I'm… I'm just…" I shrugged, uncertain of what I wanted to say. I knew Webster's definition of 'heroic' didn't fit me in the slightest; I just couldn't find the words to explain that.

"Yes, you are," Ando said. The words came out a bit indistinctly through the fat lip Hart had given him. "Jumping into a fight with that man – you are very brave to have done that."

Blood rushed to my face – I had a few good qualities, but bravery had never come up when I tried to list them. I began to stutter out some protest, only to have Peter cut across me. "Yeah, she is when the situation calls for it. She's just shy, and you're embarrassing her."

They apologized, then said goodbye. "It was good to meet you, Bella. Perhaps we will meet again."

"I'd like that…I think." I held out my hand to shake, but neither Hiro nor Ando took it; they bowed from the waist instead. Then Hiro put a hand on Ando's shoulder and they vanished, presumably to continue the search for their stolen formula…leaving Peter, Claire, and me to deal with Hart, who'd been knocked out after his interrogation was over.

We debated for several minutes about what to do with him, ultimately coming up with no better solution than locking him in the Charger. His limbs flopped limply as the three of us shoved and folded his insensate form into the backseat.

Claire, despite her earlier suggestion that we put Hart in the trunk, turned out to be less than enthusiastic about using her car for temporary detainment purposes. I couldn't blame her; I wouldn't want someone so negligent with his personal hygiene in my truck either. She might have argued, except that Peter promised the arrangement wouldn't last long – Noah Bennet was already on his way to Seattle, and would take Hart back to Company lockup where he belonged. Peter then diverted her attention by reminding her that my broken nose and numerous cuts and scrapes still needed tending to.

He claimed to need her help with that, which confused me until he took out a syringe from a box in the trunk and stuck the needle into her arm to draw blood. "Oh, no," I objected, backing away. "You can't just go putting someone else's blood in me – what if Claire and I have different blood types? I might get sick."

"No you won't. My dad – Noah, I mean – isn't really related to me, so there's a good chance that he's not the same blood type as me and it didn't do anything bad to him. Besides, you're totally just saying that because you don't like needles," Claire mock-accused me as the tiny pinprick wound in the crook of her arm healed itself.

"Come on, Bella," Peter coaxed, "a little needle's nothing compared to falling off an overpass and you were fine after that."

"Only because you didn't let anything actually happen to me," I retorted.

"So why do you think I'll hurt you with this? It's not like I don't know what I'm doing when it comes to giving shots, you know."

He did have a point there. "Okay, I trust you. You can give me a shot, just make it quick." I pushed up my sleeve and held my arm out, squeezing my eyes shut.

Peter prodded my arm above the elbow, looking for a vein. "You need to relax – it'll hurt more if you're tense."

"It's hard to relax when I'm about to get a needle poked in me!"

He laughed softly. "Don't give me that. Seriously, I know you've got more guts than that."

"No, I don't! I'm really, truly, one hundred percent gutless."

"If that was true, you wouldn't have got into that fight. Actually, you wouldn't even be here." I opened my eyes and looked up at him in confusion. He rolled his. "Just because I didn't say anything about it doesn't mean I've forgotten what day it is – I know you and Claire had to have ditched school. You wouldn't let her talk you into that if you were gutless, Bella."

I felt a reflexive urge to defend my actions and Claire's, but he didn't sound angry, so I merely quoted something Edward had once said to me: "It's healthy to ditch class now and then" and added, "Being a paramedic, you should know that."

"Sure, whatever. There, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"What?" Peter held up the syringe, which was empty. I checked my arm, finding the place he'd injected me just before the tiny wound disappeared. There was no more pain, only a dull tugging sensation as my cuts knit closed and the scrapes on my forearms from where I'd fallen on the street were covered with perfect new skin. The crushed cartilage in my nose shifted; I ran my fingers over it and determined that it was healed – there wasn't even any residual crookedness to show that it had ever been broken. "Holy crow, even Carlisle could never fix me up that fast!"

"Who's Carlisle?"

"Old doctor," I muttered; I hadn't intended to mention him, nor did I feel like getting off on the subject of the Cullens.

Peter shrugged, acknowledging that a new topic of conversation was required. "Feel like grabbing something to eat? There's a sandwich place on the next block."

"Great, I missed lunch." A loud rumble from my stomach reminded me forcefully of exactly how long it had been since breakfast.

"So much for ditching being healthy. This all right with you, Claire?"

"Yeah, great," she agreed; she sounded unhappy, however.

"Are you sure? We can find something else-"

"No, no, it's fine, love sandwiches." She smiled, but I didn't need to be an empath to tell her smile was faked.

###

Peter and Claire sat down on opposite sides of our booth, and I made to sit beside Claire; she plunked her bag onto the other side of her seat, taking up the rest of the bench and forcing me to sit next to Peter instead. Being so close to him felt awkward with her right across the table. It would have been anyway, what with me unwillingly falling for him – stupid, but true. Before today I might have been able to convince myself that I only enjoyed his company in a friendly way, but that excuse didn't hold up anymore, not after I'd almost kissed him…would have if not for Claire's interference.

Fortunately, her behavior in the restaurant made me think she knew exactly what she had interrupted and had done so deliberately. The only explanation for that was if she didn't want him to be more than my mentor and friend, an attitude which made the uncomfortable position I found myself in easier, in a way. I already knew Peter had no romantic interest in me, that I was too young for him to like me _that_ way, but those evidently were not strong enough deterrents to make me stay away from him.

Knowing that Claire wanted me to was. She was the best friend I'd ever had, practically a sister to me – I wouldn't risk my friendship with her for anything, especially not by making a play for a man who would never return my feelings anyway. _As if I even know how to go about getting his attention if I wanted to! _

Although my conviction to restrict my feelings for Peter to friendliness brought on a sense of despair that settled like a lead weight in my stomach and ruined my appetite, I also felt a familiar relief that the decision was made. My course was set; there was nothing left but to see it through.

After finishing our sandwiches (at least Claire and Peter finished theirs – a lot of mine ended up hidden in my napkin and subsequently trashed) we returned to the car to wait for Noah. He didn't keep us waiting long, for which I was grateful. I watched him approach with no more than perfunctory interest muted by depression – a tall man who wore his brown hair fairly short but not cropped, dressed in a neat suit and tie, and whose horn-rimmed glasses somehow seemed as much a part of his face as his eyes and nose.

Noah Bennet's appearance couldn't interest me…but the fact that he was observing me as well and, judging by the way he was looking at me, not liking what he saw did. He didn't say anything to me at first; he hugged Claire, shook Peter's hand, and said how good it was to see them again before giving any indication that he'd noticed me at all. "And what's your name, young lady?" he asked, turning to me and holding out his hand.

"I'm B-Bella Swan," I stuttered, thrown by his smile. Rather than friendly, it was the smile of a crocodile right before it pounced on its prey. I shook the hand he offered me, though it felt like sticking mine into a bear trap – not least because the man had one heck of a grip.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Bella. Now, if you could excuse us for just a minute-"

"She doesn't need to go anywhere," Peter told him, putting a hand on my shoulder to stop me from leaving although I'd made no move to do so. "Bella already knows all about Hart and everyone like him – she helped us catch him."

Noah looked surprised for the briefest second before his expression reverted back to calm and collected. "I see. Why didn't you call me when you found her?"

"No reason to. Look, Dad, I know you worry about me, but Peter and I aren't going to tell you every time one of us makes a new friend – because that's all Bella is, a…friend of ours."

This time Noah wasn't as successful at hiding his reaction. "Are you saying that she's not one of you?" He looked at Peter, clearly hoping he would contradict Claire's assertion that I was 'nothing but a friend'.

I was just confused; Noah Bennet already knew about our kind, knew that Claire and Peter were different, so why would Claire tell him I wasn't?

"No, she's not," Peter told Noah. "Bella's a great girl, but she's nothing we should've called you about – completely normal." As he said this, he squeezed my shoulder tighter; I got the message that I was supposed to let the lie stand so, perplexed as I was, I held my tongue.

Noah Bennet, however, did not. "You exposed your kind to a regular girl? Which one of you did this?" he demanded.

Claire bit her lip, obviously not wanting to bring her father's full wrath on herself by admitting that she had been the one to demonstrate her ability for me and tell me about mine – which she and Peter were now covering up, for some mysterious reason.

Peter took her discomfort as a cue to step in and bail her out. "It was me. I'm the one that told Bella about us."

"And when you say 'us' do you mean people like you in general, or…?"

"Yeah, Dad, she knows what I can do, too." Claire's voice was flat, all her emotion carefully concealed. Her face was likewise blank except for a hint of an anxious frown and the fact that she didn't quite meet anyone's eyes. I guessed that she felt guilty, both for lying to her dad and for letting Peter take the blame for something she'd done – because Noah was clearly blaming him for it.

"I can't believe this," he said slowly. "I trusted you to keep Claire safe, and instead you blow your cover – and for what? Impressing your new girlfriend? Never mind that she could give you both up in-"

But he never got the chance to say how long he thought I would take to expose Peter and Claire's secrets. "Hey, you don't say that about Bella; she wouldn't do anything like that! I trust her – with my life and Claire's – and you're not locking her up in a cell somewhere or erasing her memory like you did Sandra's-" It was Noah's turn to interrupt – which he did by punching Peter in the mouth.

He raised the other fist to strike again, but Peter literally beat him to the punch, catching him in the stomach and then shoving him against Claire's car so hard that the tires on that side actually came off the ground.

"Stop it!" Claire and I yelled at the same time; this time it was her who threw herself into the fight and pushed the two men apart.

Noah was wheezing from the fist to the gut he'd received, but Peter showed no ill effects from the scuffle apart from a trickle of blood from his mouth, which did nothing to prevent him speaking. "I think you owe Bella an apology." _Or snarling, as the case may be._

"Peter, calm _down_! In the first place, I doubt he _can_ talk after you hit him and in the second, he hasn't done anything to apologize for! He just wants to make sure his daughter's safe, and there's nothing wrong with that." I did think there was something wrong with suggesting that I would betray my friends before he knew anything about me, but expressing that thought wouldn't do a thing toward stopping Peter from resuming their fight.

Peter still looked angry, but all he said was, "Fine…whatever you say."

"Good. Here, let me do something about your mouth – it's bleeding." I employed the same method he had used to clean off the blood left on my face from my nose being broken, which consisted of wetting my fingertips with saliva and rubbing it off. "Does that hurt?" I was doing my best to be as gentle as he'd been with me, but sure that I was nowhere near as good at this sort of thing. It was usually me who needed minor (and occasionally major) injuries treated; this somewhat limited my experience with treating anyone else's.

"It's fine, thanks."

Meanwhile, Noah had caught his breath and straightened his glasses and jacket. Feeling his eyes on me, or us, I quickly moved my hand away from Peter's face and turned, waiting to see what Noah would do now. Claire seemed to be waiting for that as well; her gaze flickered from me and Peter to Noah as if she were watching a tennis match.

Noah absorbed all this with an appraising look and finally said, "I'd like to speak with my daughter for a moment – alone."

Claire threw Peter a look full of some emotion I couldn't identify; he nodded, expressionless, and she followed Noah to his Primatech van.

**There are a couple of things here that I think might be confusing, so here are my notes on those issues:**

**1) Why Peter and Claire lied to HRG about Bella being special: they didn't want to take a chance on him deciding to 'bag and tag' her which, let's face it, he has a bad habit of doing – regardless of whether the posthuman in question is really dangerous (i.e. Matt and West), or wants to spend a day strapped to an exam table. **

**2) Claire's reaction to Peter and Bella getting closer: please don't freak out on me because of that! I've put lots of thought into this aspect of the story and there's more to it than her not wanting her uncle and best friend together. I'll go in depth about what Claire's thinking in the next chap; until then, I can promise you that I'll still do the BxP pairing I promised you, and I won't turn the story into a Bella-and-Claire-catfight-fest.**


	15. The Talk

**As promised, here's some more B/P (which I could've cut shorter but thought you'd prefer it left long, so I did). Now I just hope the long conversations aren't too filler-like; please tell me if they are so I'll know to keep the dialogue shorter next time. **

Chapter 15: The Talk

Watching Claire get into the van with Noah gave me a very bad feeling; regardless of whether his disapproval was directed at her or not, I intuitively knew that their discussion would have some sort of cataclysmic consequence. Or perhaps my foreboding was caused by once again finding myself alone with Peter – an undesirable situation considering that I had just realized I had feelings for him and was not free to act on them.

I tried ignoring him, but gave that up after more than five minutes passed with no sign that Claire and Noah were anywhere near finishing their private conversation. Resigning myself to more frustration, I looked for Peter and found him leaning on the back of Claire's car, watching the sun slip below the horizon.

"Do you like the sunset?" I asked, perching on top of the trunk next to where he stood.

"It's interesting, seeing it like this. You can't in New York – there's too many skyscrapers, for one thing, and at night it's so lit up you don't really see the sky… You don't see it during the day either, because of all the air pollution."

I frowned. "That's hard for me to imagine; I've never lived anyplace like that. I don't think I'd like it."

Peter seemed to find that amusing. "Why not? The trees in Forks are just as dense as the buildings in NYC. The only difference is that Forks is green while New York's gray."

"Yeah, they're practically the same," I said sarcastically. "I meant that I can't imagine all those lights and skyscrapers. I used to live in Phoenix, you know, and that's a pretty spread-out city-"

"New York isn't spread out, it's vacuum-packed."

"Exactly. It's hard to wrap my head around."

He searched my face, curious. "Why would you care about wrapping your head around it? You wanna move there? Winters there are about like the weather here, and in the summer it's hot enough to melt tar; I don't think you'd like it."

"No, I don't want to move there." I ducked my head in embarrassment. "I was just curious about it because…because it's where you're from, and I was trying to imagine what it was like for you growing up."

"Oh, I see. Well, I'll take you there sometime, if you'd like that."

I would, but resolve clenched in my guts like an iron fist twisting my intestines, and I knew I would never take him up on his offer. He was waiting for an answer, so I made a noncommittal noise and stared past him at the setting sun.

Conversation ceased for a long moment, during which I could tell he didn't look away from my face although I stubbornly refused to meet his gaze. "So," he finally broke the silence, "you should be proud of yourself."

I was startled into making eye contact before I could suppress the impulse and turn my head away. "What for?" Nothing I'd done today seemed particularly admirable, especially not skipping school.

"For helping catch Hart. Bella, if you hadn't stopped him, he could've gotten away and killed who knows how many people; they're still alive because of you."

Far from making me feel better, Peter's praise only chilled me inside. "Yeah, but like you said, who knows how many people that is? Meanwhile, I know exactly how many _aren't_ still alive because of me."

"What are you talking about?"

"In the hotel – when Claire and I went in after him – I was supposed to stop him from using his power. He pushed me… I fell, and I lost focus. I let him access it again, and he killed those people on his way out! I could've stopped it and I didn't – it's my fault they're dead, and when Hiro and now you tell me how much good I've done, I…ugh, I feel like such a hypocrite! If you'd been there you could've done much better, and I was scared out of my mind the whole time; I don't deserve to be called a hero, or heroine or whatever!"

Peter waited to be sure my tirade was done before saying, "Okay, let's clear one thing up; everyone, special or normal, who ends up facing off with a person like Hart Topper is scared out of their mind. It'd be stupid not to be scared, seeing as people like that could kill you so fast you'd never know what hit you. It's when you get too confident that you start making stupid mistakes. Okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah, like I did."

"No, you didn't. What happened to you could just as easily have happened to me, or anyone else for that matter; it was just rotten luck, not any mistake of yours. It wasn't your fault, Bella, and I don't want you beating yourself up over it. I've done that myself a few times and I'm here to tell you it does no good, only makes you feel like crap and doesn't change anything. So you don't do it, understand?"

Unwillingly, I felt a smile tug at the corners of my mouth. "Yes, boss…but I still shouldn't have let him get the better of me so easily." My smile vanished as I remembered how effortlessly he'd batted me aside.

Peter sighed. "If that's what's eating you, then you might as well be mad at me for never teaching you what to do in a fight. I've been in enough – I should've at least showed you how to throw a punch."

I couldn't help it; the idea of me actually fighting was so ludicrous, I burst out laughing. He grinned, encouraged by the upturn in my mood. "Give me your hand."

"What?"

"Just do it."

Shrugging, I held my hand out to him. He took it and curled my fingers into a fist, then wrapped my thumb around them. "Now, the important thing to remember is when you hit, you want to take the impact on your knuckles; they're the hardest part of your fist, so that's what you punch with. Also, if you go for someone's nose, don't just hit straight – it works better if you angle your punch so you hit _under_ it-"

"So you can slam it back into their brain," I finished. "I've heard that before."

"Good girl. Want to take a practice hit right now?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, sure, if not for the fact that there's no one else here."

"There's me."

"Peter Petrelli! I am absolutely not punching you!"

It was his turn to roll his eyes. "I can take it…and there's no question that you need the practice."

"Goading me won't do any good. I'm not going to hit you, no matter what you say."

"You couldn't now anyway; you're not holding your fist right anymore." He picked my hand up from where it had fallen to my lap and began repositioning my fingers.

Someone cleared their throat loudly, making us jump. Claire stood there, arms folded across her chest, face carefully blank. I wondered if she thought Peter and I had picked up where we'd left off on the overpass, but she just said, "Peter, Dad needs your help getting Hart into the van; he can't move an unconscious guy by himself."

"Sure thing."

Once Hart was out of her car, Claire said goodbye to Noah and told Peter she would see him back at their house; then she asked me if I was riding back with her.

"How else would I get home?" I asked, confused.

She shrugged. "I bet Peter would take you."

"I wasn't intending to, but I could if that's what she wants…" He glanced between me and Claire, obviously not understanding what was going on. "Or I could take both of you-"

"I have to drive my car back home," Claire snapped. "Coming, Bella?"

"I'm coming." As if I would refuse while she was looking at me like _that_. Was I suicidal? Definitely not.

###

It wasn't until we were already on the road that it occurred to me I might have been safer staying close to Peter, or any other people for that matter. Still, Claire didn't do anything while we were alone – she didn't take a swing at me or even yell. All she did was drive, staring straight ahead with her lips pressed into an angry line.

Ten minutes later, I realized that breaking the tense silence was up to me. "Claire…look, I'm sorry you're mad, but…but can't we talk about this?"

Her knuckles whitened as her fingers flexed in a slight spasm. "Yeah, let's talk, Bella. Hey, if we'd done that earlier, I wouldn't be mad now! So yeah, talk."

My forehead furrowed in a confused frown; what should I have said earlier? "What… I don't know what you mean."

"You and Peter," she hissed. "Did it really never once cross your mind that that's the kind of thing I might like to know about?"

I hung my head in shame. Yes, as my best friend, Claire probably had every right to be hurt that I hadn't shared my new…I supposed 'crush' was an apt enough term – with her, especially when the object of those feelings was related to her. And because he was her family, she was probably also well within her rights to be unhappy about me having that sort of interest in him.

"Claire, I'm sorry! It's not like I wanted this to happen – I just…can't help what I feel, you know."

She smacked her palm on the wheel, apparently frustrated. "I know you can't; ugh, I don't even care about that! What makes me so mad I could put my fist through the wall is that you and Peter had to go and hide stuff from me. You could've just told me you were together – it's not like I'd have tried to break you up or something! Do you really think I'm that much of a bitch?"

I opened and closed my mouth soundlessly, too stunned to speak. After several attempts I managed to say, "I- Claire, you've- what I'm trying to say is that you have the wrong idea. There's nothing going on between me and Peter."

For the first time since we got in the car, she took her eyes off the road and stared at me in amazement. "There's not?"

I said nothing, but my face held all the answer she needed; she didn't accuse me of lying, at any rate. Just as I was about to ask her to turn her attention back to her driving, she seemed to accept that I was telling the truth and took her eyes off me. "But you do have feelings for him."

It was a statement rather than a question, but I answered anyway. "Yes, I do, I…I think I love him." I hadn't intended to say those last words, yet knew as I spoke them that they were true. Hearing them come out of my mouth hardly even surprised me.

Claire nodded her acceptance of that; then a hint of suspicion flitted across her face. "Then how come there isn't anything going on between you two? You love him and he loves you – seems like there should be."

I shook my head. "You don't understand. Peter-" I swallowed the hard lump forming in my throat, forcing myself to admit, "Peter doesn't love me. He said I didn't interest him that way, that I'm too young."

"Well yeah, you should be…you really aren't, though. It's like I said back when you spent the night and I stayed away so you and he could talk: you don't act like anyone else at school – at any of the three different schools I've been to – and it makes you seem older, even if technically you're only eighteen. I guess it's the kind of thing guys notice."

I shook my head again, this time in amusement; I'd heard that before, from Renée's joke that I was born thirty-five and got more middle-aged every year to Edward's comment that I didn't seem seventeen. Still, I usually felt incredibly young and naïve around Peter, and so I had assumed that was how he saw me…

Meanwhile, Claire was still talking. "…Not like you even need to act twenty years older than you are – you do stuff like never bothering with makeup or pretending you'd rather spend hours in the mall than stay home and read Shakespeare or something… That's exactly what I'd expect Peter to like, now that I think about it."

"Why is that?"

"Didn't he ever tell you?" she asked.

"Tell me what?"

"That he's kinda the outcast of his family because he went to nursing school while all the rest of them are lawyers or something; I didn't grow up around the Petrellis but after I met them I got the feeling that he didn't always fit in with the rest of them, just like you're different. Seriously, I'll never figure out how it took me this long to see that you're perfect together."

Although her last sentence seemed to be spoken more to herself than me, I reminded her, "We aren't together, remember?"

She waved that off. "Not yet, but I saw how you looked at each other today – I can tell you will be. You'll even have some time alone to work out your relationship, because I'm leaving tomorrow."

"What? You're leaving?" I repeated stupidly. "Why?"

"Because I'm the world's biggest jerk," Claire said, wrinkling her nose. At my uncomprehending look, she elaborated. "Dad doesn't think it's safe for me to stay here with you knowing about me, so he asked me to go back to California with him and I-" She paused.

"I agreed because I thought you and Peter were dating behind my back, and it made me so mad I didn't really want to be around either of you. Like I said, I was being a jerk. The funny thing is that if it wasn't for Dad lying about his work with the Company for so many years, I probably wouldn't have such a hang-up about people hiding stuff from me – how's that for irony? And I would like to see Mom and Lyle again," she added, almost defensively. "I'm really sorry, Bella."

"No, it's fine, just… well, you're coming back, aren't you?"

"Of course I'm coming back!" She sounded shocked that I would think otherwise. "I actually feel really stupid for saying I'd leave in the first place; oh well, nothing I can do about that now. I'll only be gone as long as it takes for me to convince Dad that you're not planning to call the National Enquirer about the freaky ex-cheerleader who can get her thumb cut off in a garbage disposal and grow it back in less than five minutes. As long as he thinks you might he wouldn't leave me alone with you anyway, so it's better for me to leave with him than for him to hang around here long enough to find out you're like me. With what you can do, I bet you'd end up having to work for Primatech too if they found out about you."

A little shiver rippled down my spine – I had already decided that wasn't a career path I was interested in, and I didn't even know all the details of what went on in that organization. Much as I hated to say goodbye to Claire, I was grateful that she was going if it meant Noah Bennet would go too. I was prepared to bet every last dollar of my meager college savings that, after he found out I knew about Claire's ability, he wouldn't have hesitated to toss me in the back of his van with Hart had the slightest opportunity presented itself.

###

I watched through the kitchen window as Claire drove off; she'd promised to drop by tomorrow morning to say goodbye but still, Noah or no Noah, I was going to miss her. If I had known Noah would be there, maybe I would have stayed home and he wouldn't even know I existed, and then Claire wouldn't have to leave to protect me… _Oh well, nothing I can do about that now _– that's what she had said, and I realized it applied to me as well.

Besides, looking back on today's adventure, I realized with a grin that I wouldn't trade it for anything, no matter what the consequences were. At least, I thought I wouldn't until I heard the front door open and Charlie call, "Bella?"

"In the kitchen, Dad," I called back.

Charlie appeared in the doorway, arms folded across his chest. "I got a call from Ms. Cope today about you not being in school…"

I groaned inwardly, rethinking the 'I wouldn't trade this for anything' idea. _Okay, this part I could do without. _

**Okay, I know Claire having to leave sucks in a big way – apologies times a zillion, and please don't kill me! I promise it's only temporary, and if I don't get axe-murdered I'll make it up to you by putting a vampire in the next chapter. **


	16. Out With the Old

**Warning: This chapter is NOT for diehard Edward fans! Neither is the next one, but jump off that bridge when you come to it, right?**

**K 'n' K Productions: I agree that writing in Peter-POV would be interesting; the reason I don't is that I can't get my head around what his would sound like. I haven't given up the idea of reworking this story to show more of his and Claire's side(s) of it, but when/if I get around to that it'll be a 3rd-person deal. **

**Pixie freak: Hope you feel better soon! I used to sunburn when my age was in single digits, which is why I'm now photophobic. Thanks for giving me Bella's excuse for skipping school – I love that part!**

Chapter 16: Out With the Old

"Uhh…go 'way," I muttered, rolling away from the hand shaking my shoulder. "'S too early to get up, Dad."

"Come on Bella; you don't want me to leave without saying goodbye, do you? Wake _up_!" I received a hard poke in the back and turned over, prepared to fix Charlie with my best disgruntled glare, only to find that it was Claire poking me, not Charlie.

Remembering in a burst of clarity what she was there for, I disentangled my legs from the sheets and staggered out of bed, rubbing my face in an effort to wake myself further. "You're leaving this early?" I asked, disbelieving and dismayed.

Claire nodded, looking no happier than me. "You and Peter keep each other out of trouble while I'm gone, got it?" Her lips pulled into a reluctant grin. "I'm sure you'll have fun with that."

I shrugged nervously. "I don't know…it still feels strange, being…you know…feeling what I do about him." Forcing myself to talk about my feelings was awkward and nerve-wracking, yet there was no one better to discuss them with than my best female friend, meaning I had to take this last opportunity before she left town.

Sensing that I needed some serious 'girl talk', Claire sat down on the end of my bed and gestured for me to sit with her. I took a seat closer to the headboard so I could put my cold, bare feet back under the covers and pulled my knees up to my chest. "So, what's the problem?" Claire prompted.

"It's hard to put my finger on it. Here's the situation: I used to have another boyfriend – the only one I've ever had, actually – while we were together, and even after he moved away, I was _so sure_ I'd never love anyone else-"

"Then putting your finger on the problem isn't hard at all – if you thought you'd never move on from this guy, of course it'd feel weird when you did."

I shifted uncomfortably. "That's not it – or not all of it, anyway. I shouldn't feel bad about moving on, because Edward made it perfectly clear that he didn't want me anymore! Maybe he's even found someone else by now, so why should I feel…almost like I'm cheating on him now that I have? Why can't I just be happy? It's not fair," I complained.

Claire's blonde hair gleamed softly in the early morning light as she cocked her head, considering. "Well," she said slowly, "if this Edward guy dumped you then you shouldn't feel guilty about liking someone else, especially since Edward isn't even around anymore; it's not like you have to worry about bumping into him somewhere with Peter and it being all weird."

"Thank goodness for that," I muttered.

"About why you think you're doing something wrong even though you aren't: from what you said last night about not being able to help what you feel, and just now about Edward being the one to end it with you, it kinda sounds like you never really made up your mind that you were over him." She gave a one-shouldered apologetic shrug.

Far from taking offense, I thought she might be on to something. "You're right, I didn't. I didn't have any say in him leaving – he just told me he was going, that we were over, and took off without giving me a chance to say much of anything. After that I- Well, I didn't exactly try too hard to get over it and stop loving him." My eyes dropped to the quilt over my feet. "And it's not like I ever really made the decision to start loving Peter either. It all more or less just…happened."

Claire nodded sagely. "Then there's your problem. I know it's totally cliché to do something like tearing up all the old pictures of you and Edward or trashing everything he gave you, but from what I heard in my cheerleader days whenever one of the other girls on the squad broke up with whoever, it really does help with the closure thing."

"Um, I can't do that, though. See, before he left, Edward kind of took all the stuff he gave me. He even stole my pictures." A slight frown formed on my face as I recalled the extra bit of pain that discovery had added to my already overwhelming agony that night.

"He did? That was rotten of him – what a jerk!" Claire gave her head an indignant toss, then said, "Well, I'm sure you'll-" Her phone buzzed before she could finish. Unclipping it from her front pocket, she checked her new text message and scowled. "I gotta go, Bella, sorry. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too." Standing up, we hugged as if trying to crack each others' ribs; I could tell she was very much regretting the anger that had led her to accept Noah's request to accompany him back to Costa Verde. For my part, I simply didn't want to be without her – yes, I would have Peter all to myself for however long Claire stayed gone, but he, however much I loved him, wasn't my best friend, not like she was.

She was halfway out the door before I dashed after her, grabbing her arm. "Wait – you never told me what to do about the Edward issue."

"That's 'cause I can't. It's your issue; I can't tell you how to deal. But you're pretty creative – you'll come up with something. Bye, Bella."

###

Unable to find solutions to either of my pressing problems – how to put the shadow of my old love for Edward behind me once and for all and what to do next time I saw Peter, since I doubted that just running up and kissing him would go over too well – I decided to put off dealing with them by taking a long-delayed grocery shopping trip.

I was eager to throw myself into this mundane task, but was forced to put it off until Charlie left on an all-weekend fishing trip; to avoid punishment for skipping school yesterday, I had fabricated a mishap that involved me tripping on the driveway and hitting my head. While this had gotten me out of trouble, it had also concerned Charlie enough that he made me promise to take it easy while he was gone and call someone else for a ride if I needed to go anywhere. I gave him the promise he wanted with my fingers crossed under the table, then made for the door as soon as the cruiser was out of sight.

My hand was on the doorknob when the phone rang. Cursing under my breath, I dropped my keys and scrambled across the kitchen to answer it. "Hello?"

"…Are you okay?" the voice on the other end asked uncertainly.

_Peter! Drat! _My heart seemed to be trying to jump into my throat; I took a deep breath and managed to sound relatively calm in spite of my uncooperative body. "Yes, I'm fine. I was just on my way out the door – had to run across the room to get the phone, and of course I tripped on the way. But other than that I'm fine," I repeated. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know; the Chief just asked me to check on you while he's out of town. Something about you hitting your head?"

I groaned. "My head is fine. I just made that up to explain why I didn't go to school yesterday."

"A perfectly believable story…coming from you." He was amused, I could just tell.

Infusing my voice with the proper amount of hurt I complained, "You're so mean!"

"You're right, that was mean," Peter agreed in a more serious tone. "How about I make it up to you?"

Foolishly, my heart rate picked up again. "And how do you propose to go about doing that?"

"I'm picking up pizza for dinner tonight; you can come over and have some. You should get a break from cooking while Charlie's not there."

Now my heart was thudding so hard, I expected it to crack a rib. Hearing my hesitation, Peter said, "Or we could go somewhere else if you don't want pizza."

"No, I…pizza's fine. See you tonight." I slammed the phone down and focused on inhaling and exhaling, trying to slow my racing heart. Conflicting emotions swirled dizzyingly in my brain: on the one hand, I wanted nothing more than to be with Peter again and let whatever would happen between us happen. On the other, a small part of me was still frozen by indecision and the nagging sense that I was doing something wrong – betraying the bits of myself that still grieved over Edward's absence and made me feel like a faithless monster for wanting someone else.

_Not fair! _I clamped down on that part and shoved it to the back of my mind. _He left first, not me. I have nothing to feel guilty about. _Still the feeling persisted, an itch I couldn't scratch. Giving up on getting rid of it, I fled to the grocery store in the hope that the bustle of a crowded store would drown out my inner turmoil.

###

Afternoon faded to twilight as I finished restocking the pantry and fridge; in just a short hour or two it would be time to go see Peter, and I was still at a loss for what to do once I got there. _I could start by not showing up in old jeans and a sweatshirt, _I decided.

Thumbing through the limited selection in my closet yielded nothing better than a newer pair of dark-washed jeans and a crocheted cardigan, unless I delved into the few really nice things I owned. I put the sweater on over a plain white t-shirt, then went back for a second look at the closet's left side. No, I saw at a glance that nothing there would have been appropriate unless I'd taken Peter up on his offer to take me out to eat, and then only if we went somewhere fancier than McDonald's.

Which we wouldn't have, because Peter was just having me over to give me a vacation from cooking, possibly also for company since we were both home alone this weekend. He hadn't asked me for a date, and why would he spend more money than absolutely necessary on a girl who wasn't his date? He had shown a certain willingness to pay for my meals on two previous occasions…but that was probably just because he didn't want me to faint on him.

Catching sight of my reflection, I felt silly for bothering to change clothes. I turned my back on the mirror – and my gaze landed on the dark shape of a black plastic garbage bag shoved into the left side of the closet under the outfits I hardly ever wore. My lips curled up in a grin; now I knew the perfect gesture to wipe Edward and the Cullens from my life. I checked the clock; I had a good hour before Peter would expect me. Plenty of time to do what I needed to do.

###

I hesitated before disembarking from my truck, but not because I was afraid to go forward. My reluctance had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with feeling somewhat stupid; the emptiness in this place echoed through the waist-high green waves of the overgrown yard, screamed at me from the house's blank, dark windows. For the first time, the beautiful white house looked like a fitting haunt for vampires, and it was creepy.

Yet this was the only tangible trace the Cullens had left of their presence in Forks, making it the only place for my final farewell. I forced myself to leave the truck and wade through the sea of grass, hoping there were no snakes lurking beneath its cover; when I reached the porch, I set the garbage bag down with a sigh of relief. This wasn't as dramatic as tearing up old photographs of me and Edward, but the stereo I'd clawed out of my truck's dashboard was all he'd left me.

"So, this is goodbye," I said softly, straightening up and turning to go. If there'd been any bitterness in me, I might have thrown the stereo through one of the windows instead of leaving it on the porch, but there wasn't. I wasn't angry at any of them for leaving me here, not even Edward. How could I be? Edward's desertion had already led to one adventure the likes of which I had never expected to have, and I was sure there would be more…starting with tonight. I smiled in anticipation; suddenly, I couldn't get away from here fast enough.

Progress through the tall grass was so frustratingly slow I could almost scream. I wasn't two feet from the porch when a prickle on the back of my neck halted me in my tracks. My eyes darted around, looking for anyone else nearby, and then I found him: a white figure standing motionless as a statue between me and my truck, his pale face a mask of shock. "Bella?"

_NO! _Was the universe playing some cruel joke on me? There was no way Edward could reappear just when I'd finally left him behind for good…so perhaps it was a hallucination. But why? Was it because I was never meant to get over Edward? Would I live the rest of my life with the past hanging over my head? _No, no, no!_

The man stepped forward out of the shadow of a huge oak, giving me a better view. First, relief flooded me; he wasn't Edward, so I wasn't hallucinating. Next came recognition. "Laurent!" There was no doubt it was him – he looked exactly the same as my memory of him, impossibly so. Naturally – vampires _always_ looked the same – but there was something…

"Bella?" he asked again. At my nod, he strolled toward me with a bemused look. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Isn't it the other way around? I do live here. I thought you'd gone to Alaska."

Laurent stopped a short distance away, cocking his head in thought. I studied his features with a strange sense of fascination; aside from the hallmarks of vampirism and shorter haircut, he looked a bit like Peter. I wondered whether Peter would mind if I arrived early…

"You're right." Laurent's voice brought me back to the present. "I did go to Alaska. Still, I didn't expect… I came around the back, you know, and noticed that the house smelled like it had been vacant for a while – I thought the Cullens had moved on."

"They did move on." _Which pertains to my being here how, again? _

"Hmm, I'm surprised they left you. Weren't you sort of a pet of theirs?" His eyes were curious, innocent of any intended offense.

I gave a wry smile. "I _was_, yes."

"Hmm," he said for the second time. "Do they visit often?"

"Haven't seen them since they left." I kept my answer short, trying to end this conversation before it made me late. Laurent, however, didn't seem to catch the hint that I wanted to leave; he stood watching me as if waiting for me to say something else, so I reluctantly asked, "What about you? Seen any old friends of yours lately?" Maybe he'd gotten bored in Denali and decided to drop in on old acquaintances – was that common vampire behavior?

Laurent hesitated for a split second before saying, "Well yes, I did meet Victoria some weeks ago. I actually came here as a favor to her." He made a face. "She won't be happy about this."

"About what?"

"About me killing you," Laurent replied in a seductive purr, slinking forward another step. An eager glint came into his deep burgundy eyes, and I finally realized why he looked too much the same; after hearing from Carlisle that Laurent had gone to stay with the Denali coven – the only vampire family besides the Cullens who abstained from drinking human blood for ethical reasons – I'd subconsciously begun to picture him, whenever I thought of him at all, with the same golden eyes that all vegetarian vampires had.

I staggered back, stunned to find that keeping my dinner date was the least of my worries.

"She wanted to save that part for herself," he continued blithely, oblivious to my reaction. "She's sort of…put out with you, Bella."

"Me?" I squeaked.

He shook his head. "I know, it seems a little backward to me, too. But James was her mate, and your Edward killed him." I opened my mouth to protest that he wasn't _my_ Edward anymore, but Laurent didn't notice and kept talking. "Victoria thought it more appropriate to kill you than Edward – fair turnabout, mate for mate. She asked me to get the lay of the land for her, so to speak, but I never imagined you would be so easy to get to. Maybe her plan was flawed, then – apparently killing you wouldn't be the revenge she imagined, since you must not mean very much to Edward if he left you here unprotected."

"No, it wouldn't – Edward and I broke up!"

Laurent frowned. "I suppose she'll be angry, all the same. Still, I meant to hunt after seeing the Cullens; I'm quite thirsty, and you do smell…simply mouthwatering." He gave me an approving look, as if it was a compliment. "Look at it this way, Bella – you're very lucky I was the one to find you."

"Am I?" I mouthed disbelievingly. It was hard to imagine how I could have been _un_luckier.

"Yes; I'll be very quick," he assured me. "You won't feel a thing. Oh, naturally I'll lie to Victoria about that, to placate her. If you knew what she had planned for you, Bella…I swear you'd thank me for this."

Immobilized by horror, I could only watch as he crept nearer, a hunter stalking his prey. A breeze blew strands of my hair toward him; he inhaled deeply. "Mouthwatering," he repeated with obvious pleasure. Then he slid into a crouch, muscles tensed to spring…

**Bella's conversation with Laurent was copied more or less word for word from New Moon (which I don't own, apart from a single copy) with a few minor changes – not sure why I thought that would be a neat thing to do, I just did. For the readers with whom I've already discussed Laurent's cameo (everyone else stop reading if you like surprises), I'm still doing the part where he and Peter fight; it was just too much for a chapter that was already seven pages.**


	17. Some Kind of Monster

**Here it is, the chapter you've all been waiting for – well, if you've been waiting to see Peter fight a vampire and kiss Bella, that is. Before you jump into reading, be warned: the fight scene is messy, including throat-ripping and decapitation, which is (part of) why this is a T-rated story. Second warning: it doesn't end that well for Bella, and my personal opinion is that she's kind of lame here; IC, maybe, but lame. Sorry! **

Chapter 17: Some Kind of Monster

_I'm going to die. In less than a minute I'll be dead, and there's nothing I can do about it. _Running never crossed my mind; I knew Laurent would catch me before I'd taken a step. My last thoughts were of how unfair it was that I'd had a chance to say some sort of goodbye to Charlie and Claire, even a supposedly temporary one, but not to Peter. _I love him more than anyone else, and now he'll never know…_

The ground shuddered so hard I was almost knocked off my feet. My eyes flew open just in time to see Laurent get up, having smacked into the ground a good four feet from where I stood. I was flabbergasted; since when did a vampire judge distance so poorly or land so gracelessly?

Laurent seemed as confused as me, if not more so. "What in the…" he murmured. Noticing that his wide eyes were fixed on something behind me, I whirled around – and my fear drained away instantly. I might not know how Peter found me here, or how he was even aware that I was in need of rescuing, but I knew one thing, a conviction that ran deeper than logic or questioning: nothing would happen to me now that he was here, because he would never let it.

He passed me without so much as a glance in my direction, focused solely on the vampire who was snarling and baring his teeth as he readied himself for another attack. I hadn't seen Peter's super-strength in action until now, so maybe I could be excused for letting my jaw drop when he hit Laurent hard enough to make the vampire's head snap back. Any other human couldn't have budged a vampire one millimeter, or accomplished anything besides breaking their hand against its diamond-hard skin, after all.

Peter hit him again before Laurent snapped out of what I could only guess was disbelief at getting pummeled by a human; when he did, his hand lashed out in a strike too fast for me to follow. It was only when I smelled the rusty tang of blood that I realized what had happened – Laurent had swiped a diagonal slash under Peter's chin, ripping his throat open!

The astonishment vanished from Laurent's face as it fell into a blank look I'd seen once before, at my catastrophic eighteenth birthday party. It was the same look Jasper had worn as he lunged at me, all conscious thought and self-control extinguished by frenzied desire for the blood leaking from a tiny paper cut on my finger. If a single drop of blood produced such a strong reaction in a vampire accustomed to denying his thirst for human blood, how much more tempting was the bright red torrent gushing from Peter's torn arteries to one in the habit of feeding on humans?

"No!" I shrieked, knowing what would happen next. Driven by the strongest urge in the vampire psyche, Laurent lunged forward to sink his venom-coated razor teeth into my love's throat…and they clicked closed on thin air as Peter disappeared.

Deprived of his prey, Laurent turned his attention to me instead, but Peter teleported to my side and sent him flying backward, away from us. After doing that, Peter's hand went to his throat as he spat up yet more blood; he also seemed somewhat unsteady, having drained whatever energy he had left after sustaining such a grievous injury with that last telekinetic push.

I threw my arms around him, letting him lean on me. "Heal!" I said desperately. "You can heal this, you have to! Unless…oh no, did he bite you too?" I thought Peter had teleported away before Laurent's teeth made contact, but if he hadn't…if vampire venom had entered his bloodstream… Terrible as my brief exposure to their venom had been, watching someone else, someone I loved, suffer that burning pain would be worse, even more so since I wouldn't be able to suck the venom out as Edward had done for me.

Peter shook his head, coughed once more, and then recovered enough to pull away.

"Are you-?" I fell silent as he held up a finger, distracted by something I couldn't discern.

"Damn it! That son of a bitch's coming back… How did I not knock him out a minute ago?"

Looking between Peter and the monster who'd just tried to kill him – would have succeeded if he hadn't regenerated – I experienced a second of confusion; how could _I_ be burning inside when I'd been nowhere near Laurent's teeth? But there was no venom in me; white-hot rage was what set my blood boiling now. I'd felt anger before, of course, but this was different – this time I felt downright murderous. Peter could have died when Laurent attacked him; now I wanted to pay the vampire back in kind.

Recognizing this, I did my quickest bit of decision-making ever. "Cut him! Use your telekinesis and tear him apart!"

"What?" Peter gave me an incredulous look, and paid for his momentary distraction. Laurent pounced like a jungle cat, nearly landing on top of him. Peter teleported again, ending up behind him, and he swung his head around, eyes coming to rest on me. Nothing could have prepared me for the look I saw there: past the point of reason, sanity, or simple hunger, this was unadulterated bloodlust – an appetite for death I could never have imagined. Were all vampires like this while they hunted, I wondered - if they were I fully understood why Edward had told me me that watching him hunt would be too dangerous - or did they only reach this point if they were frustrated by their prey repeatedly slipping through their fingers? Whichever, it was terrifying.

He sprang at me again, and this time I knew there was no escape; the vampire's bloodlust would not be satisfied until he had drained someone, so better me than Peter. He was more important, not just to me but to the world. I stood, calmly awaiting death… It didn't come.

Always my hero, Peter again stopped Laurent from laying a finger on me – this time I heard a horrid sound like a chainsaw scraping against stone – Laurent's body slammed into the ground, but his head flew free of it, sailing through the air and landing at my feet.

I hardly spared a glance for the decapitated vampire before leaping over the head, closing the short distance between myself and Peter faster than I'd ever moved in my life. Doubt, worry, nervousness – all those things had been wiped from my mind in the last ten minutes, the longest of my life; all that mattered now was that Peter was alive, and I was alive, and he had to know my true feelings before anything happened to change that. I never paused to think about his reaction to me literally jumping on him much like Laurent had tried to do, wrapping my arms and legs around him and crushing my lips to his with all the force my body was capable of.

If I had, I would have expected him to either shove me away and look revolted or kiss me back, preferably the latter. Neither of those happened; instead he froze, going rigid except for a light hold on my waist to keep me from falling on my rear. After some few seconds, when my head cleared enough to notice his complete lack of response to my kiss, I started to loosen my grip and pull back, all the while trying and failing to exert some measure of control over my tear ducts.

When I took my mouth off his, he reacted to that. He held me tighter, one hand sliding up my spine to press my torso against his until no fraction of space remained between us; I drew in a sharp breath, then stopped breathing entirely as our lips met again. This was nothing like previous experiences with Edward, who had never held me to him so tightly, whose kiss had been the lightest pressure on my lips, and who had always pushed me away if – okay, _when_ – I'd kissed him too enthusiastically.

If I pulled closer to Peter he held me there, and though I couldn't say there was anything rough in the way he handled me, he wasn't exactly kissing me gently either. Or maybe it just didn't seem that way, seeing as my only comparison point was memories of Edward touching me as if I were a porcelain figurine.

Oxygen became an issue all too soon, forcing us to pull apart and look into one another's eyes to see surprise and just a bit of bemusement there. "That was-" he broke off, not knowing what word to use.

"Yeah." I unhooked my legs in order to stand on my own again – though holding me up posed no problem for someone strong enough to engage a vampire in fisticuffs – but kept my hands clasped behind his back and leaned my head so that I could feel his collarbone under my cheek.

Motion registered at the edge of my vision; I looked for the source out of idle curiosity and stiffened as horror gripped me. Laurent's headless body was still animated! It got up but seemed lost without the head, shambling aimlessly like a zombie.

I tried twice to tell Peter about this and failed to do more than stammer incoherently. "Bella, what is it? I can't understand a word you're saying!" So I settled for pointing instead. Peter turned to look, swore, then pulled me away without taking his eyes off the beheaded body. "What the _hell_ is that thing?"

"You have to finish it," I informed him through numb lips. "Rip it to pieces and burn it. Do it now."

He looked at me strangely, a look that only intensified as he dismembered Laurent; a human body wouldn't have produced the metallic shrieks that accompanied the ripping of the vampire's stony flesh, a fact that could hardly be lost on Peter.

I waited motionlessly for him to finish, a silent, watchful statue, frozen by the cold dread that seeped through me, numbing me like poison. Something – fear? shame? old loyalties? – had kept me from confiding all of my past to either of my best friends, even though they were much less likely to question my sanity than the average human would be.

Now that was over, had essentially been over the moment I chose to tell Peter how to kill Laurent. He might already have figured out that Laurent wasn't human; my snap decision had revealed that I knew what he was, had met creatures like him before…had purposefully hidden that from Peter and Claire, never fully trusting them although they had held nothing back from me. Would he forgive me for that? Would she? What would I do if they didn't?

We stayed in the Cullens' front lawn until Laurent's (funeral?) pyre burnt itself out; during that whole time Peter never said a word to me, ignored my attempts at speaking to him, and shrugged my hand off whenever I tried to touch him. This made me cry whether that was his intent or not, but he seemed not to notice, which served to deepen my depression. I sat on a moss-covered log, buried my face in my hands, and wept as quietly as possible. However angry he was now, I was sure that acting like a crybaby would only make it worse.

"Come on Bella; we're leaving." I hastily wiped my eyes and checked the fire, confused when I saw only faintly glowing embers. Hadn't it been blazing just a moment ago? "He's gone now. Get up." Peter held out his hand to help me; uncertain what to make of the gesture, I took it and allowed him to pull me up and teleport me – to where, I didn't much care.

###

It was a bit of a relief when he took me to his place – instead of stranding me, say, in the middle of the Serengeti – but only a bit. If he'd only brought me here to tell me he was never going to forget or forgive me for the Laurent episode I would curl up and die anyway, and the Serengeti's climate would speed the dehydration process…

"Sit." I couldn't make my body obey; he sighed and pushed me into a chair. "Can you at least talk?"

"How mad are you?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Pretty damn. That guy was… I don't know what in hell he was, but that was no human I killed back there-"

"No, he wasn't," I confirmed, despite it not being a question.

"No shit. And you-" something choked him up; he looked away and swallowed hard. When he turned back to me, his face had hardened again. "You told me how to kill him – you knew what he was, didn't you?"

I nodded, though this was very obviously not a question; it was an accusation. "Yes, I- I'd met Laurent before. He's – he was – a vampire."

"A vampire, huh? Well, now him ripping my throat out makes perfect sense…and the skin? Hey, are all vampires made out of rock?"

The biting sarcasm made me flinch as if slapped. "I'm not lying!" I tried to defend myself, aware of the pleading note I couldn't quite keep out of my voice.

"Why not? It's what you do, isn't it? Damn it! I think I know you, but I really don't know you at all, do I? I mean, vampires! So you're either crazy, or you're feeding me some extremely far-fetched bullshit and expecting me to believe it, or if for some insane reason vampires really do exist – which I'm not a hundred percent convinced of – then you've palled around with them for who knows how long and just decided to keep your vampy friends to yourself – until one of them tries to have you for a snack and you need someone to get rid of him for you-"

"That's not fair!" I burst out. "Laurent wasn't a friend of mine, I thought all the vampires had left Forks, and I never told you about them because…because I just didn't see any reason to, okay? I thought none of them would ever come back-"

I broke off as electricity sparked on Peter's fingertips and set the table on fire. He put it out with a wet rag from the sink, but a hole had already burned in the tabletop with a circle of charred wood around it. "Crap, now I'll have to replace that," Peter muttered angrily.

"I'll pay for it, since you probably wouldn't have done that if I hadn't made you so mad." Another blue stream of electricity arced between his thumb and middle finger, eliciting a nervous gulp from me. "If you want to electrocute something else, you should zap me instead of taking it out on the furniture." I felt too horrible to stop him; no matter what he did to me, I deserved every bit of it.

"Bella, I'm not going to hurt you. I don't know how to take this, but I'll never hurt you."

I rested my chin on my hands and lowered my sullen gaze to the smoking table. "If you're going to start avoiding me you might as well electrocute me, because nothing could hurt me more. I don't want to be without you…I love you." Something flickered in his eyes then, so I pressed on. "And you love me too – you couldn't have kissed me like that if you didn't."

It was his turn to stare at the table, unable to meet my eyes. "I…thought I loved you, but I can't love someone I know nothing about. Or someone I know too much about; I guess it's true that you meet the same people over and over." His tone became bitter; I cocked my head, not understanding.

"This is the same kind of crap that made me pack up and move all the way out to the middle of nowhere to get away from my family – well, the fact that my father tried to steal my powers and threw me out of a seventh-story window after I read his mind and saw what he meant to do also had something to do with it. It was actually lucky that I landed where I did; if I hadn't, Claire would've gone in there and who knows what he would have done to her…"

"Your father threw you out of a window – on the _seventh story_? Was he trying to kill you or what?"

Peter gave me a 'your guess is as good as mine' look. "Maybe, if he didn't know I could heal, or maybe not. If he was, it wouldn't be anything new for him – apparently he tried to kill Nathan two years ago because back then Nathan worked in the DA's office and intended to prosecute Dad's biggest client. Then my mother poisoned Dad, leaving him paralyzed, and told everyone he committed suicide – you get the picture."

"Wow, your family is…utterly skewed. Just how am I pulling the same kind of crap as them? I haven't poisoned anyone or tried to kill my kids – I don't even have any!"

That drew a humorless, short-lived grin. "No, you don't seem like the attempted murder type, but you hide things-"

"Technically vampires as a species are just one thing," I protested. He gave me a hard look. "Sorry for interrupting."

"It's a pretty big thing, and it makes me wonder what else I don't know about you. Look, I know I'm probably being way too hard on you, but this whole thing feels like something my mother would do, and you reminding me of her wouldn't exactly be attractive even if she was less…er…"

"Evil?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry to say that works. Did I ever tell you she and Dad's client, Daniel Linderman, were the ones behind that plot to blow up New York?"

I shook my head no. "Well, I'm starting to get a better idea of why you and Claire stuck together; you both spent most of your lives around people who seem to have been compulsive liars, so I suppose it's natural that you both have bad reactions to your friends covering stuff up from you… I'm sorry, I would have been more forthcoming if I'd known how many less-than-honest people you'd already had to deal with."

Whether I would have done that out of consideration for him – them, actually, I couldn't exclude Claire just because she was absent at the moment – or for myself, to stay on their good side, was another matter, one I still felt some ambiguity over. At a loss for anything else to say, I simply repeated, "I'm sorry…can you forgive me?"

"I want to – you have no idea how much I want to – I can't. Not right now. I'm sorry too."

Tears formed and threatened to spill down my face; I swiped at them impatiently. "But I want things to be okay between us; just tell me what I have to do to make it better, please!"

"I don't know. Just be honest with me about one thing, Bella."

"Anything."

"Was Laurent alone, or will more…vampires…come after you? What the hell did he want with you anyway?"

So I told him – about Victoria's grudge against me, how Laurent had been dispatched as her lookout, everything. I even told him why Victoria wanted to kill me, though that meant finally betraying the Cullens' secret. _Sorry, guys, _I thought guiltily. _Oh well, it shouldn't matter with them gone. If they were still here it might be a different matter now that Peter knows how to kill vampires; but surely he wouldn't bother anyway. _Judging by his brief look of revulsion at hearing that my last boyfriend had been a vampire, he might be thinking that they could have me. Well, Victoria could take care of that easily…

"So, our problem now is what to do about this Victoria; she doesn't have more bloodsucking buddies, does she?"

"Not that I know of, but I thought- You're not happy with me, so…"

"So you thought I'd let this bitch torture you to death?" He sounded insulted. "Hey, just because I'm a Petrelli doesn't mean I was born without a conscience."

"Sounds like you're a genetic anomaly, then."

He laughed; it sounded painful. "We should have a while before she shows up, assuming that she's staying far away until Laurent reports back to her – which he won't. For now, I say we forget about her and get some sleep; my brain feels like it's about to fall apart."

"Will you…take me home?" I wouldn't blame him if he wanted some distance between us, but I shivered as I imagined being all alone in my house with the threat of Victoria hanging over my head.

"I can, or you can have Claire's room if you'd rather stay here."

"Yes, please."

"All right. Well then, I'm heading up now. Pizza's in the fridge if you want it."

It only took a second by myself for my imagination to begin running wild. I forced images of Victoria's black eyes, her cruel smile, out of my head and all but ran for the stairs – my appetite had disappeared.

**See what I meant about Bella acting lame? She got on my nerves a little in this chapter, even though I like the chapter itself. **

**Apologies to all the Petrelli fans, but I really just have two words for Arthur, Angela, and Nathan: shady people! **


	18. Still Working it Out

**First things first – this is my first story to hit 200 reviews, and I want to thank my wonderful readers for that *round of applause*! The level of interest I've seen from you guys always makes me (extremely) happy… when I manage to get past the astonishment… Seriously, I never expected so many people to care about it.**

**Now, about this chapter: as you may have guessed from the chapter title, it's about Peter and Bella working things out, somewhat – I just couldn't leave them mad at each other – and doing further work on Bella's power. Describing the technical workings of said power isn't that easy for me; I've tried to make it similar to her ability in Breaking Dawn with my own twist (because just copying BD would make me bored, which makes me quit and do other stuff) so I'd welcome any suggestions for improvement.**

Chapter 18: Still Working it Out 

I squinted, trying to bring the clock into focus. Almost eleven o'clock. Last night had been one of the least restful I'd ever passed; nightmares of Victoria and Laurent – his blank red eyes as he lunged for me, his telekinetic dismemberment – and even a few in which Peter hadn't healed had brought me awake, screaming and thrashing, no less than three times.

The third time, I had fallen out of bed and clunked my head on the bedside table; that was when Peter, who'd woken up every time I started screaming and sprinted across the hall to make sure I was all right, had insisted on giving me a sleeping pill. I'd agreed because I was exhausted but couldn't close my eyes without seeing red or black eyes and glistening white teeth. Thanks to the fact that I wasn't one to suffer in silence, I knew Peter couldn't be faring much better – the upshot of it was that neither of us were getting any sleep, so I took the pill.

Now I felt perfectly rested, if a little woozy, so I stumbled to the bathroom, turned the shower to its coldest, and stepped under the flow. The frigid water hit my skin like a thousand glass shards; I shrieked in surprise and jerked away. Of course my feet slipped on the wet shower floor, sending me crashing through the curtain onto the bathroom's cold tile.

"Crap, ow!" I screamed, barely breaking my fall with my hands.

The door burst open with a bang. _This is _not_ happening to me! Double crap! _I looked up and there, sure enough, stood Peter Petrelli, the very last person on Earth I wanted to see me while I was soaking wet, naked, and sprawled on the bathroom floor in what I was sure was an extremely undignified position. _Go away, go away, go away!_

Not being able to read my mind, he didn't go away. He hurried in and knelt beside me, appropriately concerned. "Bella, what happened? Are you okay?"

"Yeah – so stupid, I turned the water on cold and jumped when it hit me and fell." I tried to get up, but my wet hands slid out from underneath me. Peter caught me before I smashed my nose on the tile and lifted me to my feet; I quickly folded my arms over my chest and crossed my legs as best I could without losing my balance.

Peter turned off the shower – which was spraying water everywhere after I'd pulled the curtain open – then took pity on me and draped a towel over my shoulders. "Your knee's bleeding," he observed. "I'll- That is, do you mind if I check it out?"

I took careful stock of his tone and expression; he seemed worried about me and a bit hesitant, but not angry. I chose to interpret this as a good sign; maybe whatever damage encountering Laurent had done to our relationship wouldn't be as hard to repair as I'd feared. "Sure, go ahead." Keeping my towel wrapped securely around me, I hopped onto the counter so he could apply Neosporin and a bandage that covered the entire front of my knee. _Stupid sharp shower edges that stick up just enough for that to happen! _Still, I couldn't pretend I didn't enjoy the attention and concern.

"It's not as bad as it looks – it's a pretty big cut but it's shallow. Should heal in no time." He looked up from my knee, and our faces were suddenly too close for comfort. He must have noticed that as well, because he backed up a step and said, "You, ah, you should go put something on." Then he studied the floor as if the green and white tile pattern held the answers to all the mysteries of the universe until I was out, whether out of respect for my privacy or awkwardness I had no idea.

###

He was waiting for me when I finally made it downstairs, limping thanks to my stupid sore knee and, unless my eyes were deceiving me, he was eating the pizza from last night. "Is that your breakfast?" He nodded. "You're having _pizza_ for _breakfast_?"

"Want some?"

My nose wrinkled, then I shook my head in surrender. "What the heck – why not? Give me a slice."

We'd munched through almost half the pizza before I gathered the courage to mention our argument. "So…you don't seem mad anymore," I ventured timidly.

"I'm not. If anything, I'm sorry. You're nothing like Mom – that was way out of line, and so was most of the other stuff I said. It's your life and if you want to keep it to yourself, that's your business. I can butt out."

"What if I don't want you to?"

"Don't worry; if Victoria ever shows up, I'll take care of her for you."

"Thank you, but that wasn't what I meant."

"I know."

"And?"

"And…I don't know. I really don't know what to think of you anymore. The only person – other than me, apparently – that you've ever wanted to be with is a vampire-"

"Wait one minute – you're saying that you don't like me anymore just because you found out I used to date a vampire? How is that fair?"

Peter frowned. "Who said I don't like you anymore? You're still Bella, even if you've done some crazy stuff."

I frowned right back at him. "You think I was being crazy?"

"Yes, I do. But then, I didn't exactly get a great first impression of vampires; Edward must have been nicer to you, huh?"

I reluctantly nodded – he did have a valid point about the Cullens making a better impression on me than Laurent had made on him. I supposed it was only natural if he found vampires in general unappealing after the throat-ripping incident. "Yes, Edward was very…nice…to me – all the Cullens were, well, all except Rosalie. And Jasper mostly avoided me, but that was just because he had the hardest time with not feeding on human blood. He actually did try to attack me on my eighteenth birthday; it was the stupidest thing – I gave myself a paper cut opening presents, can you believe it?"

"Yes, I can believe you gave yourself a paper cut. Why did that make Jasper attack you?"

I explained how smelling blood sent vampires into a sort of feeding frenzy, as well as how their venom, if left to spread, created new vampires. "So if you really do have to fight Victoria – which is something I'm trying very hard not to think about, by the way – steer clear of her teeth, got it? Not that I'd ditch you if you got bitten, but you'd turn and want to eat me and it would all be a big mess…" And of course the teeth issue would mean he could no longer kiss me the way he had after beheading Laurent, and I couldn't have that.

Once the tutorial on all things vampire was over we moved on to the next problem: when Victoria arrived she would head straight for me, and because Peter couldn't stay with me all day every day, we needed a way for me to let him know if she showed up. Phones were out, as it was highly unlikely that I'd have time to place a call before getting my skull smashed in, or whatever she might have in store for me.

The quickest way of contacting Peter was, of course, telepathy, and it would have been the easiest too – for anyone except me, that is. I had tried pointing out that telepathy couldn't work between us what with my unreadable mind, and suggesting that maybe he should just stay with me all the time after all, but he squashed that plan by telling me about a little fact he'd run across while researching my ability. According to the Primatech files he had hacked (and I had to admit, I was flattered by the amount of effort he apparently put into training me) it was possible for me to relax the wall around my mind, allowing it to be read like anyone else's. Thus began a new stage in my training…

###

"You _do_ hate me for dragging you into my mess with Laurent and Victoria," I huffed two hours and a million years later. "And instead of just killing me, you've decided to give me a slow, painful death by making my brain explode!"

Peter just laughed; having bent over as I caught my breath, I straightened up to glare at him, making the cut on my left knee twinge painfully. "Ouch!" I flopped onto the sofa. "This is never going to work. If you want to know when Victoria comes to finish me off, I can just get a cell phone and put you on speed-dial."

"Giving up already? Blocking didn't come that easy either, but you kept trying till you got it."

Without raising my head from the back of the couch, I directed my reply to the ceiling. "I'm never going to get this, and I'm too tired to try again right now anyway."

"How can you be tired? You haven't done anything. I think you're just being lazy, Bella."

I sighed, dejected by the disappointment in his voice when he said my name; however pathetic it was, I couldn't stop myself wanting – needing – his approval. I just wasn't going to get it this time, because I couldn't do what he wanted. "No, Peter, I'm not being lazy. I really can't open up my stupid thick head! You can probably shield and unshield easy as flipping a switch, but I can't! And don't say you can't to make me feel better; my time with Edward got me used to being the worst at everything-"

My lips suddenly glued themselves together; my tongue stuck itself to the roof of my mouth, rendering me unable to produce any sound whatsoever. It had been a long time since he'd telekinetically sealed my lips – stretching my shield to protect myself from powers that affected me physically as well as mentally was the first thing he'd taught me. Now pushing and holding his power away from me came as naturally as breathing.

He pushed back, testing my defense.

"I'm not letting you through; I hate telekinesis on my face."

"You what?" He gave me the look he reserved for when I said or did something he regarded as especially outrageous or hilarious, or both.

"You know, I hate it when you use it to hold my mouth or eyes closed. That's almost as bad as the time you tried to tie a knot in my hair."

That made him smile. "I remember; that was the most fun I've ever had with you." He took advantage of my distraction to slip under my shield, and then my arms were locked together from wrist to elbow.

I shielded my whole body and retaliated by completely blocking his powers. "I ought to make it permanent – give you a mental block to match mine." It was meant teasingly, but there was a small, ugly part of me that resented his perfect control of all his powers – better than ever after I'd shut off Sylar's intuition for good, which was as close to actually getting rid of it as he was ever going to get – while I couldn't even handle every aspect of the single one I had.

"Why do you have a block about opening your mind? And don't say you just can't do it when you just showed that you can shield yourself and block me without even thinking about it. This isn't that different."

"Yes it is. I like being able to keep what goes on inside my head private, and if I let you into it there are any number of ways you could screw my brain up…"

"I wouldn't do that!"

"Even if you didn't change anything or poke through my memories, I'd still know you were hearing every stray thought I had and…and I'd _feel_ it!" I drew my knees up and hugged my shins. "You know I have to feel out power to block it, so now I always feel when someone's power touches me whether I'm trying to or not. It's funny; before I found out what I could do I was never aware of it although Edward tried to read my mind a lot when we first met," I mused. "Using my shield made me more sensitive, and I don't want to feel telepathic fingers groping my brain! Every time I try to relax I imagine what having someone in my head and knowing they were there would be like, and then I panic and tense up! I don't think the barrier can come down while I'm so nervous."

Peter's (unhelpful) suggestion was: "So quit thinking about that."

"Easier said than done, Peter." I rolled my eyes.

He leaned closer. "There must be some way to clear that dense head of yours."

Our abrupt proximity was already well on the way to doing that; my head was definitely spinning, if not cleared. I couldn't even muster indignation at being called dense or stop myself from blurting, "You being this close helps."

That seemed to interest him. "Really? How about this?" His fingers brushed over my temple and through my hair, then came to rest on my shoulder. He pulled me that last inch closer and then we were kissing; it was just as intense as I remembered.

It was also over much too soon. When we broke apart, I realized that we'd inadvertently accomplished what I had struggled to do for the last couple of hours; the wall of mental…'muscle', for lack of a better word…surrounding my mind was finally relaxed – penetrable. _Hey, I did it!_

"Is that supposed to surprise me?" Peter's telepathy skimmed my mind's surface at the exact same moment that he rested his forehead against mine – simultaneous mental and physical contact. An odd sensation, yet not an unpleasant one.

_Why doesn't it surprise you? _Speaking with only my thoughts was also odd.

"Because I know you, Bella Swan, and there's not much you can't do when you really want to."

_I'm glad one of us thinks so… _I popped my shield back into place and continued out loud, "...and right now I've decided I really want to kiss you again." Then I proceeded to do just that. I didn't know how much time I had with him before Victoria arrived and we had to forget about everything outside of just surviving – enjoying it while it lasted seemed like a good idea.

**The next chapter will pick up two or three weeks later (in the story; I don't mean I'll take that long writing it). I'd like to do something with it like bring in the wolves or bring Claire back, but I haven't decided which yet.**


	19. Trouble Comes In Packs, Pt 1

**After careful consideration, I decided the best thing at this point in the story would be to bring in the werewolves, so that's what I've done – major apologies to everyone who wanted Claire back instead! I really hope this chapter isn't too terrible anyway.**

Chapter 19: Trouble Comes In Packs, Pt. 1

My truck got nowhere near its internal speed limit as I drove home from school, for the simple reason that I was in no hurry to get home. There really wasn't any place I felt like hurrying to except wherever Peter happened to be, and I knew he wasn't at my house. Any hopes I'd had of seeing him more often now that we were something more than 'just friends' had been dashed in the last two and a half weeks; then again, maybe I shouldn't expect too much since he wasn't exactly my boyfriend either.

That was how I thought of him and I hoped he considered me his girlfriend, though I hadn't directly asked him yet and therefore didn't know for sure, but as far as anyone other than the two of us (and Claire, I supposed) was concerned, we were nothing more than friends. Actually, given that we never publically hung out together in Forks, most people didn't even know we were that.

We'd decided to keep it that way because I recalled all too well the stir it had caused when I began spending time with Edward – the Cullens' aloofness was well known all over town – and knew that dating someone ten years older than myself would bring on even more in the way of raised eyebrows and pointed fingers; Edward and I had at least appeared to be the same age, however far that appearance was from the truth.

I would have endured the scandalized gossip if Peter objected to our relationship not being public knowledge, but he never had – although he could care less what the population of Forks thought of him, he knew I would be embarrassed if my love life became the talk of the town. He'd also correctly pointed out that I still had more than a month of school to go as well as finals, that embarrassment was likely to damage my powers of concentration, and said he didn't want my GPA to be ruined because of him; I did still have to get into college, after all.

Claire wasn't back yet, and we were waiting to make an absolute decision about where we were going until we could discuss it face to face, but we did know Peninsula Community College or anything like it was out. In her time here, she'd realized she wasn't crazy about small town life…and if we moved to some big city no one there would care how much younger I was than my boyfriend…

Absorbed in pleasant daydreams of living someplace where Peter and I could finally have an actual date, I went through my front door and didn't notice that I wasn't alone until I walked right into the object of my fantasizing. "Peter! Did you miss me?" I threw my arms around him and stood on tiptoe to press my lips to his.

He hugged me but didn't return my kiss, which was unusual to say the least. I pulled back, seeing now that he seemed tense, anxious. Nevertheless he gave me a light squeeze and said, "Miss you? Why would I do that?" Then his flash of playfulness vanished. "That's not why I'm here. The Chief called; when you got home he wanted me to tell you he'd be late getting back and that you should stay inside. Looks like another backpacker's fallen into Forks' version of the Bermuda Triangle."

My face chilled as the blood drained from it. Disappearances in the woods had stopped cold after Peter killed Laurent – who had clearly been behind them after all – so if someone else had gone missing now it must mean… "…Victoria. She's here," I whispered, terrified. I clung to Peter and buried my face against his chest, as much out of affection as wanting to feel him close to me; in his arms was the only place I felt completely safe. "And now you're going out there after her, aren't you?" Reluctantly, I raised my eyes to his and saw my worst fears confirmed there. "Don't! She'll find me eventually anyway; why not just wait for her to make the first move?"

"Because then she'd have the element of surprise and we'd be on the defensive. I'd prefer it the other way around."

"Then take me with you. I can't stand sitting here not knowing if I'll ever see you again!" I held him tighter, a bit of desperation showing on my face.

He seemed taken aback by my plea. "Sure, you're coming with me; why do you think I waited for you? If Victoria has anything special up her sleeve I could probably use your help." His dark eyes hardened. "But you have to pull yourself together, because you'll be worse than zero help if you go to pieces. Can you do that?"

I nodded and forced my slight trembling to stop, afraid of doing anything that might ruin my chances of going with him.

Peter searched my eyes for any hint of indecision and, finding none, smiled and stroked my cheek. "You'll be perfectly safe, Bella. I won't let her anywhere near getting her hands on you – you know that, right?"

"I know. Love you," I added quietly.

"Love you too, but you'd better not be saying that because you think I'll get you killed out there."

###

We turned invisible the instant we materialized in the forest, which turned out to be a good thing because the police and rangers were out in force. Armed with guns and the K-9 unit, they all wore the same grimly tense expressions as they split into groups of three or four to follow the tracks of some animals they believed to be the culprits.

Scanning for Charlie and failing to find him, I tried to inch closer for a better look. Peter let me go a few steps, then pulled me to a halt. "Careful," he whispered in my ear. "They can still bump into you even if they can't see you."

I nodded, remembered belatedly that I was invisible, and unshielded so I could communicate telepathically instead. _What do you think about these tracks they're following? _

_I think there's more going on here than we know about._

My eyes bulged and my jaw dropped, making me grateful for my invisibility. _How… Did I just hear your thoughts?_

_Yeah, the guy I got this from started out just reading minds, and then it evolved so he could control them too. Part of that's being able to put your thoughts into someone else's head; you can even use it to control their senses and actions, _Peter explained.

I found that creepy. _New rule: you are _not_ allowed to use that on me! _

_Deal. Do you mind if we fly? One of the rangers thinks whatever did this might still be nearby, but we have to move fast._

_It's fine as long as you don't drop me or hit any trees. _

Apparently deeming that comment unworthy of response, Peter wordlessly – thoughtlessly? – picked me up and took off. The speed and the air rushing past reminded me of riding on Edward's back as he ran, except that flying involved shifting altitude to go under or over branches. As if that wasn't bad enough, I was hurtling through the air with no visible means of support. I shut my eyes tightly, held on even tighter, and hoped Peter saw or heard something soon so we could land.

When we finally did, Peter set me down but kept his arm around my waist; I could feel his tension where our bodies pressed together. _What's the matter? _

For an answer, he reached into my memory and pulled up the morning we'd come out here to do detective work (which we now saw had been faulty, as we'd let a paw print throw us off Laurent's trail, enabling him to hunt a little longer before being dealt with). The paw print, however, hadn't been our only discovery – we'd also encountered a strange telepathic network but hadn't stayed to find its source.

_Them again? _

_Yeah, and this time one of the…things…is tracking us. It, or he, or whatever, thought something about catching your scent-_

_My _scent_? _I repeated, alarmed. _What _are_ these things?_

_I don't know, but this time we're not leaving till we find out. _He positioned us with a large oak at our backs and there we waited, still invisible, to see what would come after us.

Our pursuer came into view in the space between tree trunks and I bit down hard on my tongue to keep myself quiet. It wasn't a vampire – it wasn't anything that looked remotely like a person. It most closely resembled a wolf, but wolves were just not that _big_! The russet-furred behemoth approached slowly, sniffing the air… Its huge snout swung around… It stared right at me!

It was the monster's eyes that got me – filled with an intelligence far beyond any animal's, those black eyes made me certain that their owner was somehow aware of my presence. Completely forgetting that there was no way the wolf should be able to see me, I let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Everything happened too fast for me to make sense of it. I only saw the wolf prepare to spring, felt Peter take flight, his arm digging into my ribcage as he dragged me with him, and then the two of us plus the wolf were outside my house, in the small treeless space between the back of the house and the forest that served as a backyard. I tumbled onto the thick grass carpet when Peter let go of me so he could turn all his attention to telekinetically pinning the wolf down on its side.

The wolf thrashed against Peter's metaphysical hold, whimpering; I sensed that he was telepathically examining it, and being none too gentle as he probed its mind. "Stop!" I cried, struggling to my feet. Even if it was only an animal, and a monstrous one at that, I saw no reason to treat it with needless cruelty.

I shielded the wolf and made to step between it and Peter, but he grabbed my arm to stop me. "Stay back, Bella, there's something wrong with it!"

"What are you-?" I broke off, distracted by something half-glimpsed out of the corner of my eye. Turning, I saw that something very strange was happening to the wolf – it shook violently, its shape blurred, and suddenly it shrunk, changing from a wolf to a dark-skinned human right before my eyes. He looked up, meeting my eyes again, and for the briefest second I thought there was something familiar about him. Then I was falling, the ground twisting up toward me as my vision swirled and went dark.

###

I seemed to be lying down, though I couldn't tell where. There was also a vague sense of someone watching me. My eyelids fluttered as I tried to open them.

"Bella? Hey, are you with me?"

This time my eyes flew open, his voice all I needed to bring me back to consciousness. "Peter, thank goodness you're here," I mumbled. "I had the craziest dream…"

"Is she awake?" Another face peered at me over Peter's shoulder, one I had last seen at the end of my insane nightmare.

"Oh no, not you." My eyelids slammed shut again. "Come on, wake up!"

"You're already awake," Peter said impatiently. "Open your eyes." I obeyed, dismayed but not really surprised to find the room's other occupant still with us. Peter continued, "This is Jacob Black; he says he's an old family friend of yours."

I nodded my assent. "Yeah, you met his dad, Billy, once when he came over to watch a game with Charlie. I've spent a little time with Jacob before-" I omitted the small fact that my time with Jacob had been limited to me wheedling information on the Cullens out of him, and him crashing my prom to warn me against continuing my relationship with Edward "-but I almost don't recognize him now. He used to have longer hair and less…well, there used to be less of _him_." It was true – the Jacob I remembered was a gangly adolescent, whereas this Jacob was huge, with muscles that would make Rocky Balboa feel inadequate. I wouldn't believe they could be the same person if not for the face, and even it was changed; there was a hard bitterness in his eyes now that I'd never seen before.

"So I've heard. Jacob here also claims to be a werewolf." Peter rolled his eyes, obviously no happier with Jacob's story than he'd been when I told him about vampires. At least this time he wasn't angry with me.

I shook my head in bewilderment. "So having that giant wolf after us, and it turning into Jacob – all that really happened?"

"I wasn't _after_ you, Bella!" Jacob cut in vehemently before Peter could reply. "I caught your scent out there and followed it to make sure you were okay! You and your friend shouldn't have been out there anyway, there's-" Whatever he was going to say next seemed to stick in his throat, choking him. "It's dangerous out there," he amended.

Peter eyed him curiously. "Were you about to say 'it's dangerous because there's a vampire hunting around Forks'? 'Cause if you were, we already know all about that."

Jacob looked startled for a moment, then seemed to understand something. "She told you about them, huh? Gotta say I didn't see that one coming – thought she'd go to her grave protecting those leeches' secret."

"Maybe she would have if Laurent hadn't attacked her. That kinda made it impossible to just shove the cat back in the bag-"

"Wait, who's Laurent?"

"Would you two quit talking about me like I'm not sitting right here!" I complained loudly.

Peter held up a hand and snapped, "Shut up! Something's coming."

"That'd be the rest of the pack," Jacob coolly informed him. "Our minds are all linked together when we're wolves, and I cut out of the link when I changed back to human. I guess it took them a while to track me since you…got us here so fast, however you did that, but now that they have they're on their way to make sure you haven't killed me."

My eyes widened. "And your pack is made up of how many werewolves, exactly?"

Jacob turned those hard black eyes on me. "A bunch."

Behind me, Peter muttered something that sounded very much like 'oh, _shit_'.

**After posting this chapter I'm going to attempt to begin work on Resurgence's side story, which I hope to have up within the next week – assuming, of course, that my stab at stepping outside of BPOV doesn't turn out so pathetic that I abandon the idea altogether. Which I admit could very well happen.**


	20. Trouble Comes In Packs, Pt 2

**I feel like I should apologize to Jacob fans for this – I didn't start writing intending to do a lot of the stuff I ended up doing, but I did it *sheepish shrug*. I'm sorry for the jerky behavior in this chapter; it just came to me as the thing to do when I tried to imagine humans with superpowers and werewolves interacting. Also, the ending is a bit… well, stuff like that is part of why this is a T-rated story. You'll see what I mean, and consider yourself warned!**

Chapter 20: Trouble Comes In Packs, Pt. 2

If I ever made a list of the strangest events in my life, the last five minutes would have to be somewhere near the top. Jacob had stepped outside to speak with his pack, and now three other werewolves had shifted to their human forms and crammed themselves into my living room.

In my current position on the couch next to Peter, my arm linked through his, I could feel the rigid tension in his muscles pulsing from his body into mine. I was almost grateful for that, because being the center of attention was always nerve-wracking for me even when my audience didn't include werewolves. If they'd only been staring at me I would have fallen apart, but right now Peter needed me to stay calm, so I would.

I couldn't blame him for being set on edge by four werewolves grilling him about how he'd transported Jacob to my house from the middle of the forest in less than a second _and_ persuaded him to 'fess up about the pack – which apparently none of them were supposed to be able to do; the one who seemed to be the leader had said something about an 'injunction' that I didn't understand – especially not since the one called Paul seemed to be doing his best to pick a fight. Paul's confrontational attitude made him easily distinguishable even though all the pack members shared the same huge, muscular physique and close-cropped haircuts.

Jacob and the other one besides the leader, Jared, also seemed ill at ease and their discomfiture only became more pronounced as Peter explained how he'd used teleportation and telepathy on Jacob. However, they never questioned that he could in fact do those things; I assumed that was because they'd experienced everything secondhand up until Jacob had turned back into a human.

"So, moving past the fact that you're some kind of super-freak, can we get to what actually happened to the leech? We've busted our tails for more than a month chasing him, and then a couple weeks ago, poof – he stops hunting, we follow his latest trail to the old Cullen place and find a pile of ashes. You gonna tell me you did that?"

"I did."

Jared, Jacob, and Sam all looked as if they didn't quite believe that but weren't ready to rule it out either. Paul, on the other hand, snorted. "Yeah right. Look, pal, it takes more than just being able to read a bloodsucker's mind to kill one. You have to-"

"Rip 'em apart and burn the body; I remember," Peter interrupted. I sensed that he was fed up with Paul's condescension and belligerence. "Good thing reading minds isn't all I can do." Blue fire appeared in his palm; he gave Paul just long enough to change his expression from a scowl to open-mouthed amazement before closing his fist and smothering the flame.

Observing Paul's pack mates shifting in their seats, I got the impression that these people were used to being the most formidable thing wherever they went, and that meeting a human who was on a level with them had thrown them. I felt grateful for the first time that my power was so unremarkable; if the guarded look in the werewolves' eyes when they glanced Peter's way was any indication, they really did think he was a freak, maybe even a dangerous one.

I looked up at him, my forehead wrinkled in a worried frown. _They don't like you – I think knowing you killed Laurent scares them._

_How's that for hypocrisy – a bunch of guys that turn into wolves calling me a freak? Not that people like us don't get that reaction sometimes, but still…_

I shook my head slightly; the ethics of the matter couldn't be less important to me right now. _You're right, it is a skewed outlook, but that's not what concerns me. What if they decide you're as dangerous as one of the 'leeches' and try to do to you what they'd do to a vampire?_

_Then they'll have one hell of a fight on their hands. _When my frown stayed in place, Peter laced his fingers through mine and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. _Don't worry, I promise not to have a nuclear meltdown and leave a smoking crater where Forks used to be._

I squeezed back tight enough to cut off circulation in his fingertips. _The rest of Forks doesn't concern me either. I just…can't have anything happen to you, Peter. I don't know what I'd do without you. _It wouldn't be like the months after Edward left me, I was sure of that. That I had survived. Losing Peter, and not because he left me… I remembered his fight with Laurent and shivered. I couldn't survive him leaving me either, but if anything happened…if he somehow got hurt or…

He tapped me on the arm to bring me out of my horrified trance; I realized I'd left my mind unshielded and he had heard everything I'd just thought. _Don't think like that, okay? I'm not going anywhere. _I leaned closer, not really caring if our 'guests' saw us kiss – and the door slamming brought me back to reality with an unpleasant thump.

Sam had gone out without my noticing and was now coming back in, followed by what I took to be the rest of the pack – three more guys with half-inch-long hair, wearing knee-length denim shorts and no shirts in spite of the cool climate. But it was the fourth new arrival that interested me. She was the only female, unless this wasn't the entire pack; I wondered why that was. The four were introduced as Quil, Embry, Seth, and Leah, and I kept staring at Leah longer than was polite. Sensing my eyes on her, she met them with a hostile glare.

I hastily turned away, flushing, and covered my embarrassment by offering everyone drinks. Quil, Seth, and Embry responded with enthusiastic orders for two Cokes and a 7-Up, while Sam, Jared, and Jacob more calmly asked for Coke or whatever was handy. Leah and Paul grumbled out requests for water, and Peter asked if I wanted any help.

"No thanks, I can get it. You sure I can't get you anything?"

"Yeah. If I want a drink later I think I know where everything is."

That was true enough, so I ducked into the kitchen without arguing. The Coke was easy enough to find, but I had to dig for the 7-Up; I finally found it and pulled my head out of the fridge to see that someone else had followed me in from the living room.

"Aah! Jacob Black, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Sorry. Just thought you might need some help carrying cups." His voice was almost too casual and his eyes held an intense scrutiny.

Peter sometimes looked at me in a similar way – his intensity was one of my favorite things about him and since it only showed up when he was fully engaged in something, like when he was fighting to save the world or slaying vampires, I felt a secret thrill whenever being with me brought that out in him. Most of the time I felt completely insignificant as far as the world at large was concerned, except for when Peter looked at me like I was as deserving of his undivided attention as the threat of a Shanti virus pandemic. Then I felt like the most important thing in the world, or at least in his world, and that was all I needed-

-From Peter, but not from anyone else. Until now no one else _had_ paid that much attention to me, so until now I hadn't known how uncomfortable I would feel being stared at by Jacob. Of course I'd been uncomfortable with Jacob since the moment I'd opened my eyes to find him hanging over my sofa, but this time the feeling had nothing to do with the presence of a real live werewolf in my house and everything to do with said werewolf giving me what felt like too much attention from anyone other than my boyfriend.

Nerve-induced clumsiness made me knock over a plastic cup; Jacob's hand appeared under my nose to wipe up the spreading Coke puddle. I backed up until my personal space no longer felt invaded. Apropos of nothing Jacob said, "You sure can pick 'em, Bella."

"What's that supposed to mean?" My voice came out an octave higher than normal.

Jacob's face slid into a look reminiscent of Paul. "It means you have great taste in boyfriends." He practically sneered the last word. "First you're with a bloodsucker, then when he leaves town you move on to a super-freak who reads minds and has fingertip flamethrowers…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "Really great taste," he repeated.

"I don't know about my taste, but you have no business saying anything bad about Peter, or Edward for that matter! You don't know either of them-"

"I know _Edward_ was a filthy bloodsucker!"

"So Edward was a _vampire_. Peter's perfectly human – what's your problem with him?"

Jacob shrugged. "I'll admit he's not as bad as a leech; it's the perfectly human part I'm not sure about. The stuff he did – he dug through my _mind_, Bella! You can't pretend there's nothing freaky in that!"

My temper flared. "You and your pack are in each other's heads every minute when you're wolves!" Hearing my boyfriend insulted naturally offended me, compelling me to retaliate. "What Peter can do is none of your business anyway. I know what's really bugging you – you're just jealous because he was the one that finished off Laurent, not you!"

Jacob's scowl told me I'd hit a nerve. "That's supposed to be our job – killing _them_ is the whole reason we exist! Then this Peter guy comes along and gets the leech _and_ you! Yeah, I saw the way you were all over him in there. Little old for you, isn't he?"

Furious, I grabbed a spare can of Coke, shook it hard and pulled the tab, aiming it so the carbonated eruption sprayed right in Jacob's face. He threw up his hands too late, yelping as the cold jet hit his bare chest. _Serves him right, parading around with no shirt! _

Throughout our heated discussion, Jacob and I had spoken rather forcefully but not much louder than usual; his startled exclamation, however, brought everyone running. Peter maneuvered over the Coke-flecked part of the floor to where I stood and gently tugged the can out of my hand. "Bella, what was that about?"

"Nothing – Jacob was just being a jerk," I sniffed, angry tears pooling in my eyes.

Peter knew me well enough to tell that my tears were caused by anger rather than sadness, but he put his arm around my shoulders and let me lean into his side nevertheless. "What did you say to her?" he asked, looking disapprovingly at Jacob.

"I told her if the two of you can't find someone your own age, you should at least keep your hands to yourself or get a room." He stomped off, banging the door on his way out.

Peter's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he watched Jacob go.

Leah, leaning in the doorway between kitchen and living room, laughed drily. "Don't worry, it's nothing you said. Jacob used to have some huge crush on your little _girlfriend_. He got used to the fact that he couldn't hang around her after the old Quileute genes kicked in, but he never quite got over knowing he'd lost out to that Cullen; I'm sure Bella told you all about that. Tell me, how's it feel to have the leech's leftovers?"

Peter glared at her in disgust. "Y'know, Bella doesn't have to take your crap in her own house. I think Jacob could use some company out there." He nodded pointedly at the door.

After Leah left, Sam Uley stepped forward, an embarrassed grimace on his dark face. "I apologize for them. Jacob's had a difficult time since joining us, and Leah…" Something flickered behind his mask of calmness.

"What about Leah?" Peter narrowed his eyes in concentration, then nodded understandingly. "Bad breakup – well, who hasn't been there?"

He'd taken Sam off guard, but the werewolf leader covered it well. "That's a very useful talent you have."

"Can be; it can also be a headache."

"Excuse me." I could tell the rest of the pack wasn't going to leave with Jacob and Leah immediately, and I still felt too upset to hang around while they finished up whatever business they had with Peter. I headed for the stairs.

"Bella…" Peter reached out to stop me, but I slipped out of his grasp.

"You stay and sort things out with Sam; I'll be fine." He looked doubtful, so I gave him a reassuring smile. Smiling was easier since it was plain to see that he wished he could kick all the werewolves out and make sure I was really okay.

###

Upstairs in my room, I checked my e-mails, finding several from Renée. My stomach wriggled guiltily; I'd been so wrapped up with Peter, either being with him or thinking about him whenever I wasn't with him, that I'd neglected my correspondence with my mother. Some daughter I was.

Renée's latest letter told me that Phil had broken his leg during practice, and though they hoped he could recover enough to take care of himself in time for Renée to attend my graduation, it wasn't certain. She asked if I could visit her over spring break just in case she couldn't make it, and suggested I bring Claire and Peter with me; she'd especially been looking forward to meeting them since I talked about them so often.

Grinning with amusement, I wrote back that it was unlikely Peter could take off for a week-long vacation with me, although I'd see what I could do. I really would; now that we were (unofficially, I reminded myself) together, he probably should meet my mother. Then I wondered whether he'd consider that too big a step in a relationship that no one else was aware even existed.

Claire, I said, was out of town visiting her adoptive family, but I'd be sure to ask her if she returned to Forks in time for spring break. She probably wouldn't mind some time in Florida unless she'd had enough of that climate in California.

_Why am I even worrying about that? I can't go see Renée anyway, not while I've got a vampire after me. The last thing I need is to drag her into my danger zone; it's bad enough that I'm already risking Charlie's life! _I punched my pillow in frustration. _I should be glad Claire's safely away from this craziness, and I should just get Peter to take me somewhere I can't put innocent people in danger by being too close to them…somewhere remote, like the Yukon…_

The door opened and Peter came in to sit on my bed. Abandoning my letter to Renée, I curled into his lap and tucked my head under his chin, pressing my forehead against where the pulse beat in his throat. "Can we move to the Yukon?"

I felt the vibration of his surprised laugh. "Why would you want to move there? You already think Forks is too cold."

"Because nobody lives there, so nobody'll get hurt when Victoria tries to get to me again."

Peter sighed. "Bella, how many times do I have to tell you, we'll take care of Victoria? If you want it done faster I can find her-"

I put my index and middle fingers over his mouth to hush him. "That's not what I meant. I'm just frustrated – Renée wants me to visit her, and I feel like I can't because having me so close would be dangerous for her, and…" I dropped my hand, shoulders slumping in defeat. "Vampires are just too much to deal with. They're so strong, so fast… It's like they can do whatever they want, and there's just no stopping them! Edward and his family more or less blended in at school and the hospital so I thought- I don't know what I thought. I saw the bad side of vampires when James hunted me, but I still… I was so stupid." My head drooped limply onto Peter's shoulder; I felt drained, as if my outburst had taken something physical out of me.

"No you weren't. You loved him; there's nothing wrong with that. And staying with him no matter what he was – do you realize how many people couldn't care about someone enough to do what you did? To have someone like you and leave her… Edward Cullen's the stupid one."

My lips curved in a smile. "I'm glad I know you, Peter Petrelli." We kissed, but I kept it short. "Can we take this over to your place?" I didn't know where the request came from, or why my heart was drumming so fast it was almost painful.

"Sure."

We teleported from my room to his and picked up where we'd left off. This time neither of us pulled away. His tongue ran over my lower lip, and I instinctively opened my mouth a bit more. I had no clue what to do now – this was one of the things Edward couldn't do with me – so I just followed Peter's lead, mimicking whatever he did.

His mouth left mine and moved down; I tossed my hair behind my shoulders so he could kiss my neck, only stopping when he got down to my collarbone. "Is this okay? We can stop if you want…"

I shook my head frantically. I didn't know why he was asking if it was okay to kiss me or why he thought I would want to stop, but I did know I didn't want him to. "No, keep going, please." Why was I so breathless? Sitting sideways on his lap and turning my head to kiss him was beginning to make my neck sore, so I shifted onto my knees. "Better," I muttered in the second my mouth was free; we could get closer this way. I wasn't sure whether the pounding in my chest was my heartbeat or his.

His fingers slid under the back of my shirt, up my spine, over my ribs – places he'd touched me before, but always through my shirt. It was so much better with nothing between his hand and my skin. I sensed that this make-out session – that's what it was, even though 'making out' seemed like an insufficient term for anything I did with Peter – had turned into a runaway train, hurtling toward some vaguely glimpsed endpoint, and the time to stop it was almost past… I didn't want to stop it.

Something banged loudly downstairs.

**See what I mean? Was that too much for anyone? Come to think of it, I probably owe Edward fans an apology too. I won't be home tomorrow, so please don't get mad if you review and I don't get back to you right away – I promise I will eventually, 'K?**

**In other news, I'm also posting the first chapter of Resurgence's companion fic today, but after rereading how it starts out and what I have planned for it I decided it should probably be rated M, so keep that in mind if you choose to look for it.**


	21. She's Back!

Chapter 21: She's Back!

I jerked back, would have fallen to the floor if not for Peter holding me. "What was that?" My voice was high and shaky.

"I don't know." He turned invisible as he headed off to check the source of the disturbance.

"Peter!" I hissed and hurried to follow him. I felt his hand close on my forearm, and my body disappeared. Although looking down at where my feet should be and seeing nothing was still unsettling, I was grateful – for the protection, and for him understanding that I wouldn't hide under the bed while he faced some unknown intruder.

He took me with him, but kept himself in front of me. I couldn't object to that; if it was Victoria and she could smell us enough to attack without seeing us, he could handle it better than me.

All the downstairs lights were off, but something glowed faintly from the kitchen. Upon entering, we discovered that it was the refrigerator light; the fridge was open, its door hiding all but the feet of whoever had opened it. Finding what she was looking for, she turned away and shut it, but not before the light let Peter and me see her face.

My knees went weak with relief, and Peter let go of me and turned visible again. "You could've called and let us know you were coming back, you know."

Claire squeaked in surprise and dropped the milk carton, from which a white puddle quickly spread. "Peter! Send me into cardiac arrest, why don't you?"

The lights blinked on just as I wet paper towels to clean up the spilled milk. "Hey Bella, I didn't expect you to be here!" She knelt and hugged me, accidentally clunking our foreheads together.

"Ow!" I complained, hugging her back. "That hurt!"

"No it didn't."

"Maybe not for you. I can't believe how much I missed you."

"Me too. Do I have a ton of homework to catch up on? Is it spring break yet?" She bounced back to her feet and hugged Peter as well. "What about you? What've you been up to? You and Bella didn't do anything too exciting while I was gone, did you?"

Peter glanced at me over Claire's head, silently asking how much to tell her. I shook my head a fraction of an inch to either side and pointed to myself, trying to convey that I would tell her about Laurent, Victoria, and the pack. He seemed to get the message, because he said, "Nothing too exciting," then changed the subject. "Why didn't you tell us you wanted to come home? We would have met you at the airport."

The corners of Claire's mouth twisted. "I didn't think about calling you because I left kind of quickly."

"Why was that?"

"_Angela_ showed up." Claire said the name through gritted teeth.

Peter said nothing, but his expression darkened.

"Angela?" My mind jumped to Angela Weber, but Claire obviously wasn't talking about her. I dumped my handful of sodden paper towels in the trash and faced my best friend and boyfriend with a confused frown.

"My _mother_," Peter spat angrily. "What was she doing in Costa Verde?" Blue fire licked his fingertips; he appeared not to notice.

"I don't know exactly, but I think it had something to do with me – that's why I left so fast," Claire explained. "I saw her come in and eavesdropped on her conversation with Dad. She said he'd done well getting me back and told him to keep me there-"

"Damn it!" The fire in Peter's hand flared brighter. Worried that it might catch on something – like the table he'd just replaced – I quickly blocked him, putting out the flame before he even realized it was there.

Claire continued as though there'd been no interruption. "I called the airline right away and snuck out as soon as she drove off. Bet Dad regrets not finding out where we went besides 'somewhere around Seattle' now." She smirked.

"That still narrows it down more than I'd like. If it was him he probably wouldn't stay here…"

"No!" Peter turned blank eyes my way; preoccupied with Claire's problem, he wasn't really paying attention to me. I kept talking regardless. "You promised! You said you're not going anywhere!" The floor seemed to be falling out from under my feet, my memories looping back to the worst day of my old life – the day that truly marked its end…

I'd said something similar to Edward, reminding him of his promise to stay with me, but he just said that promise only applied as long as it was best for me, then said _I_ wasn't good for _him_ and left! I thought of that day as the end of my old life because I didn't feel like the same Bella I had been – certainly not the empty shell I'd become after Edward left, but not the same Bella I'd been when I was with him either. Peter had brought me back but changed me in the process – so much of who I was now was thanks to his influence that I no longer knew who I was without him.

Hearing the panic in my voice, Peter's eyes refocused. "Sorry, I should have said 'I'm not going anywhere _without you_'. I didn't mean that I wanted to stay here the rest of my life – but I wouldn't leave you!" he quickly added. "You believe me, don't you?"

I nodded shakily. "I'll believe anything you tell me."

He pulled me close in a fierce hug, then seemed to remember that Claire was still in the room. "Ah…when you asked what we did while you were gone, about that-"

Claire held up a hand. "Peter, I've seen how you and Bella are with each other – I'm not _that_ much of a blonde. I'm happy for you. _Really_. Thanks for telling me, but just…keep a lid on it while I'm right here, okay?"

Peter nodded, I nodded and blushed, Claire laughed, and the phone rang. Claire, still giggling, picked it up. "Hello? Hey, Charlie! Yeah, it's me… Well, I just got back… I missed you too. Yeah, she's here; she forgot to leave a note? I didn't know she was that excited to see me again. Okay, here she is." Claire held out the phone.

I adopted a properly chagrined tone. "Hi Dad."

"Bella, I don't blame you for wanting to see your best friend, but you should have told me where you'd be. With people disappearing again, I got worried when I came home and you weren't here."

"I know, Dad, I'm sorry. But you don't have to worry; I'm perfectly safe here with Peter and Claire."

"Thank goodness for them; I know I leave you alone too much." Charlie sounded slightly guilty.

I decided to use that to my advantage. "I don't mind being alone…but I haven't seen Claire in so long, and we have a lot to catch up on – can I stay here tonight?"

"Sure, sure… Say, how'd you go over there? Your truck's here."

"Claire had Peter swing by to get me on their way back home," I invented, knowing I wouldn't have to ask them to corroborate my story any more than Charlie had to ask if they minded me staying overnight.

Charlie accepted that without question, said he'd see me after school tomorrow and good night, and we hung up.

"You just decided to stay here, didn't you?" Claire asked. I sheepishly said yes. "Wish my dad let me do that; you don't know how lucky you are not to have to live with parental lockdown."

###

Claire and I shoved her luggage into the closet; she said she could unpack when I wasn't here, that she'd do it tomorrow. Knowing her, I thought it more likely that she'd do it when she ran out of other things to wear. I kept my mouth shut – I wasn't much better.

I sat next to Peter during dinner, and though eye contact was the only contact we had Claire still asked if I wouldn't rather bunk with him when I went into her room after putting on my pajamas. I responded by hitting her with a pillow.

Soon she was chasing me around the room, both of us laughing as we thrashed each other with our fluffy weapons. "You're not hurting me at all, you know," Claire taunted, blocking my pillow with a fist. "I didn't even feel that!"

"Guess I'll have to change tactics, then." I threw my pillow aside and tackled her to the bed, pinning her wrists with my knees and tickling her ribs mercilessly. "You feel that, huh Claire-Bear?"

Laughing too hard to answer, she kicked and twisted, trying to throw me off. "Stop – stop, or I'll – !"

"You'll what?"

The door opened to reveal a disgruntled Peter. "What's going on in here?"

"Get – your girl – friend off me!" Claire panted. Taking advantage of my distraction, she pulled out of my slackened hold, grabbed my shoulders, and flipped me onto my back but didn't pin me, choosing to catch her breath instead. "We were having a pillow fight, and she cheated!"

"There are no rules in pillow fighting," I protested. "Tell her, Peter."

He shook his head, torn between amusement and exasperation. "I'm telling both of you – quit playing around and go to sleep."

I pouted. "You're supposed to back me up!"

"I just don't want you tired tomorrow – you have school, remember? Good night, girls."

Claire said good night, but I dashed across the room to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I love you."

###

After he left I lay awake, tired but unable to fall asleep. "Claire?"

"Huh?"

"Are you awake?"

"No, I'm talking in my sleep."

We rolled onto our sides and propped up on our elbows. "Are you sure you're okay with this – me and Peter, I mean? I know you said you were, but-"

"But you didn't believe me?" She paused; I guessed she was examining her feelings carefully, determined not to tell an unintentional lie. "No," she said at last, "I really am all right with it. I want you to be happy and I want him to be happy and if you're happy together, then who am I to gripe about it? It's probably for the best anyway – you're both…"

"Super-freaks," I finished, using Paul and Jacob's term.

Claire sighed. "Yeah, we all are. Do you ever wish you were normal, Bella?"

"I've never felt normal – I never really felt like I fit in with anyone – until I met you and Peter. If I didn't have you two I might want to be normal, but it's not so bad…like this."

"Peter and I feel the same way about you, you know."

I flopped onto my back with a sigh, realizing that the moment had come for full disclosure. Now that Claire was back, she should be warned about the dangers of associating with me. "We'll see if you still feel that way now that having me around is more dangerous than it used to be. Claire, there's something I need to tell you."

###

"So…explain again why we're here?"

I sighed. "As I've already told you, Peter and Sam agreed it'd be safest for me to stay in pack territory while Peter's at work in Seattle. I can reach him telepathically when he's anywhere in Forks, but it's harder the further from me he is."

"I understand that. What I don't understand is why _I'm_ here. I can't get hurt – I hardly need werewolf protection."

"Brain trauma can kill you," I reminded her. "And what if Victoria bit you?"

Claire made a face. "Yeah, you told me about vampire poison, but poison doesn't affect me."

"Vampire venom won't kill you – it can actually heal injuries, so I don't know if your ability would recognize it as something you need to be protected from. But it will turn you, and-"

"That would be bad?" Claire finished.

"Very bad," I said emphatically. "I haven't seen the pack in action, but I'm gonna take a guess that you don't want them after you, and they really seem to hate vampires. Can we go in now?"

Embry's mother directed us to the garage, where he and a couple of his pack mates were clustered around a toolbox and a dirt bike. My jaw clenched when I saw Jacob. His eyes darkened briefly as I met them, then shifted to Claire and took on the same look Embry and Quil were giving her: surprise mixed with admiration.

She quickly checked them out as well and evidently decided she liked what she saw, because she stepped forward to introduce herself. "Hi, I'm Claire Bennet, Bella's friend."

The boys hurriedly wiped their hands on the grease rag or their shorts before shaking her outstretched hand. "Quil Ateara, and these are my friends, Jacob Black and Embry Call. Bella didn't mention bringing a friend, but you won't see me complaining."

Claire grinned. "Me either." To me she said, "I've suddenly decided hanging with the pack might be a good idea after all."

Quil, Jacob, and Embry looked surprised again, but unpleasantly so this time. "You told her?" Jacob asked me incredulously. "What part of 'this is supposed to be a secret' did you not understand?"

"You can trust Claire," I told him tersely. "She's Peter's niece."

Understanding instantly replaced their alarm. "So you're used to freaky stuff, then," Embry stated.

Raising an eyebrow, Claire slid between him and Jacob and placed her hand on the bike's engine, which had been revved after the guys worked on it.

"Hey, that's hot!" Quil exclaimed, reaching to pull her away. A smell like bacon cooking filled the air as Claire's skin made contact with the hot metal; Quil grabbed her wrist and yanked her hand back, wincing at her raw red burns. "No way," he murmured as she healed.

Claire smiled smugly at the wolves' reactions. "Way," she said simply.

As the afternoon wore on, I could tell Jacob was making a subtle effort to get me alone, either to continue our argument or to apologize – as well he should. I rebuffed his attempts for over two hours by sticking with the other three, though Quil and Embry were too busy flirting with Claire to pay much attention to me, and burying my nose in homework, but he finally succeeded in ambushing me on my way out of the bathroom.

I was startled to open the door and find him right outside but didn't show it. Instead I crossed my arms and fixed him with my darkest glare. "What do you want?" I asked rudely.

"To say I'm sorry…for what I said yesterday."

"Apology noted."

"Thanks, Bella."

"I said 'noted', not 'accepted'. What you said was way out of line."

"I know that! Look, you have no idea how hard it was for me… I wanted to call you after the bloodsuckers left, ask if you wanted to hang out sometime, but I heard Charlie telling Billy how depressed you were and I just…didn't know what I'd say to you. Then I joined the pack and they said it wasn't safe for me to be around you, but in all that time I still thought about you and it just never occurred to me that you already had somebody else! It just took me by surprise, you know?"

I nodded slowly. "I can understand that – but it doesn't mean you had the right to be such a jerk when you found out how things are. Peter's never done anything to you, and you shouldn't have taken it out on him just because you were jealous."

Jacob shifted under my heated gaze, which I liked to think was boring into him. "I think I took it out more on you than him, actually."

"I'm talking about you calling him a freak," I snapped.

"He _is_ a freak, Bella."

"Then I guess it's a good thing you never got around to calling me and I ended up with Peter – us 'super-freaks' should stick together!" Jacob looked confused. "Outside my house, he was probing your mind and then it stopped, remember that?" He nodded, still puzzled. "That was me. I can't shoot fire from my fingers or cut up vampires with telekinesis, but I can shield, like I did for you, or block the powers of other people like me, Peter, and Claire – other _freaks_."

Now Jacob looked thunderstruck. "Bella, I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean _you_ were a freak-"

"I know; you were just insulting my boyfriend, not me, right?" He had nothing to say to that. I scoffed. "Just leave me alone, Jacob. I've got nothing more to say to you."

Pushing past him, I reentered the living room and nearly collided with Claire. "Oh, there you are; I was just going to look for you. Sam called to say that he, Jared, Paul, and Leah found Victoria's trail and that she went by the Cullens' house, saw where you and Peter burned Laurent's body, and bailed. They don't think she'll come back for a while, and Peter's home, so we can leave now."

"Good; I've had enough of the pack for one day."

**Happy to have Claire back? Me too! Question: should I do something with them visiting Renee during spring break and a bit of P/B fluffiness, or skip straight to the next stage of Victoria's dastardly Bella-killing plan? Right now I'm leaning toward getting on with the vampire slaying as I feel like there was enough 'human-type' drama in this chap (and I'm not crazy about fluff except maybe as a deleted scene) but I might do more if you want. I live to please the readers, right?**


	22. Murder City

**I've decided to go on to Victoria; sorry, fluff and vacation fun just isn't my thing.**

Chapter 22: Murder City

_This isn't how I'd imagined kicking off spring break. _True to Sam's predictions, Victoria had stayed away since discovering where Laurent had met his end and, in the absence of mysterious disappearances and wolf sightings, I'd imagined Charlie spending a bit more time in a boat with a fishing pole in hand – time that I could spend with Peter.

As it happened, Peter was here right now, which was the only reason I wasn't in a truly sour mood. I was already less than thrilled; my living room was a far cry from the darkened movie theater or restaurant I'd been picturing, especially with a March Madness football marathon blaring from the television. Also, in my fantasies Peter and I had been completely alone, whereas in reality Charlie, Billy, Harry and Sue Clearwater, Seth, Leah, Jacob, Sam, his fiancée Emily Young, and Claire were also here.

Besides emptying the place of romantic atmosphere, these additions also meant I had a ton more cooking to do. Emily, bless her, had taken dessert off my hands by bringing a couple of cakes; I assumed the second was to ensure there would be enough to satisfy the wolves. I still had to make much more stroganoff than usual, though. Claire was helping, and Peter had attempted to do so but had proven to be such a bad cook that I'd sent him off to set the table, so now it was just me and Claire.

Leah was also in the kitchen, but only so she could use the phone. In fact, given that the way she'd parked herself at the counter forced Claire and me to step around her, I considered her more of a hindrance than a help.

Nevertheless dinner finally got fixed; Charlie, Billy, Jacob, Seth, and Harry were dragged out from in front of the TV, and Sue made Leah get off the phone. Noticing that Leah's scowl seemed even more murderous than usual, I hurried to claim a seat far enough from her that her gaze couldn't spear me as it so frequently did Sam. To my dismay, Jacob grabbed the chair next to mine. His behavior had improved to the point that he was almost tolerable, but that didn't mean I wanted him sitting where I had to reach across him to get another roll.

Claire sat across from me, for which I was glad, but Peter got stuck at the other end of the table between Harry and Charlie so they could quiz him about the goings-on in Seattle. This was understandable – endless conversation on sports and fishing had to get boring eventually, even to them – but I also suspected that Charlie, at least, felt slightly guilty for dumping the table-setting on Peter and rambling ad nauseam about the huge trout he'd caught last Sunday. Peter's eyes had nearly glazed over with boredom, and then he'd fled the living room to join me and Claire.

"…Know EMTs aren't allowed to carry any sort of weapon on the job, but I hope you're being careful out there."

That sounded ominous; my ears perked up.

"I always am," Peter replied.

Charlie seemed satisfied with that; I decided I'd have to speak up if I wanted more information. "Why does Peter need to be careful at work, Dad?" I asked, trying to sound innocently curious.

Charlie's eyebrows pushed together. "Haven't you seen the papers this week, Bells?" He hooked a thumb over his shoulder at a stack of newspapers by the door. The front page's big bold headline jumped out at me:

**DEATH TOLL ON THE RISE**

**POLICE FEAR GANG ACTIVITY**

My eyes widened. "There's a gang on some kind of killing spree in Seattle? For the last _week_?"

"Yep, stuff like this is why everyone wants to live in a small town." Charlie shook his head. "Ten unsolved homicides in twelve days! Can you imagine living like that?"

I wasn't paying attention. "And you didn't think to tell me this?" My voice rose as I craned my neck to glare at Peter.

Charlie frowned. "Why would he tell you? He probably thought it would just upset you."

"Yeah, a murder epidemic isn't the kind of thing I'd chat about with a _kid_," Peter said, emphasizing the last word to remind me that as far as Charlie was concerned, that was all I was to him. "Now lean off the table – your hair's about to get in your food."

Jacob 'helpfully' pulled it behind my shoulder, brushing my back as he did. Something crawled up my spine at his touch – not the same as how I sometimes shivered when Peter touched me, either. I risked a quick look at him and was gratified to see that he looked displeased by Jacob's fingers in my hair, though he hid the flash of annoyance before anyone else caught it. Thereafter I kept my hair well away from my plate, and the conversation soon turned to more pleasant topics.

###

Other people took over rinsing dishes and loading the dishwasher, so I went outside after making sure I'd caught Peter's attention. Having gotten the message that I wanted to speak with him privately, he joined me after a few minutes. "What's up? Is this about me not mentioning the murders in Seattle?"

"You should have told me, but I know you can take care of yourself so it doesn't bother me that much. I just came up with this theory – I think it's Victoria. When she was hanging around here people kept disappearing from the woods, then she gets scared away after finding out that someone killed Laurent and now there're a bunch of random killings in Seattle? It's too big a coincidence to _be_ a coincidence."

"You have a point, but not all the bodies looked like a vamp's handiwork. Three of them died of organ failure; no puncture wounds on their necks, no blood loss, nothing. They were only listed as homicides because the ME said there was no way they could've died of natural causes."

"Organ failure, what does that mean? Which of the victims' organs failed?"

"All of them," Peter said grimly. "No one knows why; none of them had any preexisting conditions or damage – everything in their bodies just quit working all of a sudden. Tell me how a vampire could do that, Bella."

Stymied, I admitted, "There's no way."

"One of us might have something to do with it. I've never heard of a power that does anything like this, but that's not to say it isn't possible…"

I wasn't ready to consider that one of our kind had gone off the reservation, not with Victoria out there as well. "You said three people died this way. What about the other seven?"

"From what I've heard, no one can figure out how the other seven died either. The bodies were burned, but there were crushed and broken bones too."

"And blood?"

"None left – nothing much left of anything." Guessing my thoughts before I voiced them, he said, "I'd say a vampire could be behind that. But it still doesn't explain the other three murders, unless Victoria's able to suck out the energy that keeps someone's body working-"

"Or unless she's found someone else who can. I can't see her working with a human, but don't forget that vampires can be special too."

"Sounds like a theory. Any suggestions on how to check it out?"

"You have precognitive abilities; see if you can dream what she's doing now."

"I can try, but it's not always as easy as just closing my eyes."

This was news to me. "You mean you can't control it?"

"Controlling what you dream about isn't an exact science."

"Alice Cullen's a precog, and she could control her visions – get them whenever she wanted and look for specific things. She didn't have to draw or dream either. Well, actually she couldn't dream, since vampires can't sleep."

"They can't or they don't?"

"They can't. I don't know whether any of them ever want to; Edward didn't have a bed in his room, but he did have this sofa. I wonder if he'd lie on it and daydream about dreaming…" I saw that Peter was wearing a slight frown, though of thoughtfulness or irritation I couldn't tell. "Sorry, does it bother you to hear me talk about Edward?"

He looked straight at me then, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. "Trying to ask if I get jealous?"

I was caught off guard by his bluntness, but he knew me too well for me to lie my way out. "Well…do you?"

"No."

"Oh." I scuffed one shoe against the other, uncertain what to make of that.

"At least hearing you talk about him doesn't make me jealous, because I don't care that you used to be with someone else. It might be a different story if he was still around, or if I thought you still loved him."

I turned that over in my head before responding. "Well, I'm glad you don't think I still love Edward, because I don't. Or at least, I'm not _in_ love with him anymore even if I still feel anything for him. I can't be sure about that because I haven't seen him since deciding I'm over him and falling in love with you." After a second's hesitation I asked, "Why don't you care that I loved Edward before you?"

"Bella, you're eighteen – even before you told me about Edward, I knew it was unrealistic to think you'd never had feelings for anyone else. And Edward was the only one, right?" At my nod he said, "I've dated more than one other girl before meeting you; does that bother you?"

"Um, it depends. How many other girls are we talking about? More than Simone and Caitlin?" I wondered if I'd regret asking the instant the words were out of my mouth.

"Yes, but nothing serious except my girlfriend in high school."

"And that was serious," I mused. "What about this – with me – would you call us serious?"

"Sure." The word came out quick, automatic; he clearly hadn't expected the question or thought about his answer beforehand. "Why even ask that? I'm with you, aren't I?"

"Not as far as most people are concerned," I replied, trying with limited success not to sound sulky.

Peter gave my shoulders a light squeeze. "As far as I'm concerned I am, and I don't want to be with anyone else." Lifting me onto the side of the bed of my truck, he rested his forehead against mine and said quietly, "You're the thing that matters most in my life now, Bella Swan."

There was nothing I could say to that that he didn't already know, so I opted to say nothing at all and kiss him instead. His response was swift and enthusiastic; he held me tighter, I wrapped my legs around him, our kiss deepened…and someone's throat cleared loudly behind us.

"Nice night out; just look at all those stars."

Peter answered with thinly veiled impatience. "I think you know perfectly well that we weren't out here stargazing. But, just in case you really don't know the difference, what we were doing's called kissing, Jacob."

Jacob's casually cheerful attitude suddenly became more aggressive. "What's that supposed to mean, 'in case I don't know the difference'?"

"What he means is that maybe you should find someone willing to kiss you – then you wouldn't have to watch other people do it like some kind of voyeuristic creep," I retorted, angry at him for interrupting.

Claire, who had come outside with Jacob but had the good sense to stay back, threw in, "Don't look at me; I don't like voyeuristic creeps either. And, 'voyeuristic', Bella? Seriously? I'm totally throwing out your collected works of Jane Austen."

While Claire and I traded verbal barbs, Peter moved on to telling Jacob my theory about Victoria relocating to Seattle and making a talented new friend. "Say you're right – why are you telling me about it?" Jacob asked.

"Thought you should know. You're the one that wants to tear into a vampire after all."

"I could've torn into a bloodsucker already if you hadn't stuck your nose in where it doesn't belong!"

"And if I hadn't stuck my nose in, Bella would be dead," Peter snapped. "I've had it with your attitude. If you wanna kill vampires so bad, try being there when one shows up and then I won't have to do your job for you!"

Jacob shook so violently that his shape seemed to blur…and the door opened, spilling the other wolves into the driveway. "What's going on here?" Sam demanded.

"Peter and Jacob were arguing. They do that a lot – like every time they're in the same place," Claire said drily. "Jacob was being a jerk butting in on him and Bella, but then Peter made some sarcastic comment about your pack not being able to catch Laurent and said maybe you should go to Seattle so you could actually do your job-"

"What would we go to Seattle for?" Leah asked derisively.

Claire shrugged. "Just what I heard Peter telling Jacob," she said coolly, inspecting her nail polish. "Bella thinks Victoria's gone to Seattle and found another vampire who can make people's organs quit working."

"Which makes no sense," Jacob argued. "Ten people in twelve days? One or even two leeches don't need that many."

"So maybe there's more than two."

I stared incredulously at Peter. "More than two? Aren't two vampires bad enough? Why do there have to be more?"

"To get to Bella," Sam said slowly, apparently talking to himself. "The redhead found that her accomplice, the one she sent as a scout, had been killed; naturally, she would have realized the area is not unprotected. So, to overcome whoever stands between her and Bella…"

Peter read Sam's mind and completed his sentence. "She's creating more vampires – building an army."

Everyone froze after he said that, thunderstruck by the idea of Victoria returning accompanied by an army of vampires. When Emily came out of the house to ask if Sam was ready to go nobody answered; we just stared at her in mute horror.

**A couple things about this chapter I want to discuss:**

**First, I know I had them figure out what Victoria's up to much faster than in Eclipse. I did that because Eclipse made a whole book out resolving the Victoria conflict; I on the other hand still have more I want to do after she's out of the way, so I'll be dealing with her quickly.**

**Second, I really did intend to make Jacob more likable but after another chapter of him acting like a butt, I guess I should explain why I seem incapable of writing him in a positive light. The thing is, Eclipse convinced me that the guy's an immature jerk who, once he decided he wanted Bella, couldn't accept her being with anyone else. Yes, part of that was his dislike of Edward, but my dad raised the point that Jacob's attraction to Bella could have been partly just because she was unattainable, and I agree. Being with Peter obviously makes her just as unattainable as being with Edward. Also, considering the level of cockiness I perceived in Jacob, I really doubt he'd take kindly to any human who's as good at killing vampires as he is.**

**Thanks for reading; I hope what I've said makes sense.**


	23. Midnight Massacre

**As promised, here's the quick resolution to the 'Victoria problem' – the chapter title is a reference to them doing their research and deciding to deal with her all in one day so, obviously, someone's going to end up getting killed in this chapter… at midnight, I suppose.**

Chapter 23: Midnight Massacre

I dropped my head into my hands, ran them hard over my face and through my hair. Claire, Peter, and I had spent the better part of the afternoon searching Primatech files for Victoria's new accomplice, and had zip to show for it.

"This is pointless!" I slammed my manila folder shut and shoved it off my bed. "There's nothing in here about spontaneous organ failure. Nor was there anything useful in the last eight folders we've been through."

"It has to be in here somewhere," Claire insisted. "I took files on everyone held in Level Five over the last decade!"

Sighing, I flopped onto my back and unfolded my stiff legs, stretching them off the end of the bed. My toes curled as blood tingled in my numb feet. "Well, maybe our guy was never held in Level Five. Maybe they never caught him. Maybe he was never even on their radar."

"_Everything_ gets on their radar," Claire said darkly.

I opened my mouth to release some of my frustration by snapping back, but Peter spoke before I could. "Bella has a point; some people do get away from them. Still, I can't believe they wouldn't have noticed someone like that. He or she has to at least be in their files…"

Hearing my desk chair squeak, I raised my head and saw him open the Internet browser. "Come on, Peter – you don't seriously think the Company keeps their records online, do you?"

"No, but I can use the web to connect to their computers and hack in from there." That recaptured my interest; I got up and crossed the room to the desk, folded my arms on the back of the chair and leaned on them so I could peer over Peter's shoulder. He typed in the address for Primatech's website, then stared disbelievingly at the number of pop-up ads that covered the screen.

"Sorry, I have really crappy Internet service. And I only have this because Renée wanted to be able to e-mail me."

"Want me to fix it for you?" Peter offered.

"Fix it how?"

"Watch." He put his hand to screen, closing his eyes in concentration. In a second the ads were gone, replaced by Primatech Paper Co.'s site. Another second and everything paper-related was gone too; a box came up saying a password and authorization code was required for the files Peter was trying to access, but a string of numbers and what I could only assume must be the correct password filled themselves in. A list of Primatech's secure files appeared.

My mouth fell open. "How did you do that?"

"It wasn't hard – all the codes and passwords are stored in the mainframe's memory drives. All I had to do was pull out the right ones. I also told your computer to block ads so you won't have to deal with 'em next time you get online. Now I just have to search these files…" he muttered. A dialogue box popped up, file names flashing through as they were searched.

I watched the first few, but there were hundreds of folders there. "Do you have to watch it go through all those? It looks like it could get boring."

"No, you just have to start the search and check out the results."

"So…it wouldn't be bad if you got distracted right now?"

"Nope." He turned to me. "Are you planning on being distracting?"

I grinned. "Aren't I always?" I slid my arms around him from behind and brushed my lips over his neck. "Is it working?" He didn't say anything, but I sensed that he was amused. "Not yet, hmm? I can fix that." I leaned over the chair's back, twisting my head to reach his throat and kissing harder.

"Okay, now I'm distracted." When he spoke, his vocal cords vibrated interestingly under my lips; I caught the skin between my teeth and nipped gently. "Hey!"

Papers rustled behind us. "Hey guys, I'm still here you know. Just because I'm okay with you being together doesn't mean I want to see you _do_ stuff together!" Claire said plaintively.

My face grew hot. "Sorry, just got a little carried away. Won't happen again."

"I hope not – you just bit me!"

Claire looked over at us for the first time. "Bella bit you? Maybe she's a vampire. She is awfully pale…"

I stuck my tongue out at her. She wadded up a piece of paper and threw it, hitting me squarely on the forehead. I started to pull away from Peter so I could retaliate, but he held me in place by catching my wrists.

"Something's come up here – a file on some guy called Jax," he informed us without taking his eyes off the computer screen. Either my horseplay with Claire had gone unnoticed, or he was too used to it to care.

I refocused on the files and Claire scrambled over to the computer, playful scuffling completely erased from both our minds. When the dossier was opened, I read it aloud. "Subject: Jax (last name unknown). Last known location: McKeesport, Pennsylvania. Ability: energy absorption, also referred to as empathic vampirism-"

"Which is…?"

"Listen to this: 'discovery of Jax's ability sheds startling new light on the concept of 'psychic vampires', a term used in certain subcultures to describe people who feed off the 'life force' of other living creatures. If the psychic vampire drains too much vital energy from their victim, however, the victim will no longer possess sufficient energy to maintain basic life processes, resulting in complete cessation of organic functions…' This is it!" I gave the desk a triumphant thump. "The rest of the file says they tried to capture Jax, but he killed the agents sent after him and escaped. He must have moved to Seattle and crossed paths with Victoria somehow – and when she saw what he could do, she either forced him into working with her or turned him!"

"Impressive," Peter said.

I shrugged. "All I did was read the file and come to the obvious conclusion; you're the one that got into Primatech's database."

"I meant that what Jax and Victoria have done is impressive – but so are you." He looked into my eyes and smiled, making my breath catch in my throat as I involuntarily took on the same expression.

At the sound of rapid footfalls, we looked away from each other just in time to see Claire walk out the door. "We're not doing so great at not making her feel like a third wheel, are we?" I observed guiltily.

"Guess not." We kissed quickly, then Peter disentangled himself from my arms and left, presumably in pursuit of Claire. With a sigh of mixed remorse and resignation, I followed.

Claire, it transpired, had gone no further than the kitchen, where she'd tried calling Sam to report our findings. When Sam hadn't picked up she phoned Billy, who promised to call around until he found an available werewolf to pass on the news. Apparently, most of the pack was on patrol in case Victoria or any of her new minions tried to enter the area.

After thanking Billy and hanging up, Claire asked, "Do you really think the pack'll help take down Victoria and Jax?"

"I don't know," Peter told her. "Most of them seem to think nothing outside 'their lands' is their problem. But whether they'll help or not we have to do something; we can't just sit around and let people die till Victoria decides her vamp army's big enough and brings them here. And after last night, I bet Jacob for one won't stay here if we go after them."

"Right – he'd never get over missing another chance to 'tear into some bloodsuckers'," I agreed scathingly. "I can't believe how hung up he is on you saving me from Laurent. The way he acted last night…" I shook my head, still amazed at the display of childish behavior. "I hope Billy finds someone to tell Sam about Jax soon; standing around waiting drives me crazy."

Peter patted me on the back, wordlessly telling me that he sympathized with me and that I should relax, it would all be over soon. I nodded but kept my face turned to the window so he wouldn't see the concern creasing my brow. Yes, it would be over soon, one way or another. But what if it wasn't the way I wanted?

###

Sam arrived just as the afternoon light began dimming, to report that the pack had found no sign of vampires nearby. We, in turn, told him that we'd discovered the identity of Victoria's right-hand man.

"Now that I know what he looks like, I can find him; we're going after him and Victoria tonight. Is your pack in or what?" Peter asked.

Sam hesitated. "It's not our way to hunt down vampires who aren't encroaching on our lands-"

"Not yet." Sam looked inquisitively at Claire. She went on, "This vamp bitch is making an army _to kill Bella_, and Bella's here. If we don't go for them, sooner or later they'll come for us. I don't know much about vampires' feeding habits, but if they've only killed ten people it seems to me like there can't be that many of them yet. Wait for her to bring the fight to us and there'll be more of them; they'll also be ready for a fight, and they might be able to sneak up on us. Everyone would be safer if Victoria's army never gets the chance to come here."

Sam's emotions stayed pretty well hidden behind his mask of stoicism, but I knew Claire's argument had impressed him. "You make a good point; I'll discuss it with the pack. It wouldn't be right to order them into an offensive like this without getting their opinions first."

###

Half an hour later Peter, Claire, and I were at their house – where I'd told Charlie Claire and I had a sleepover planned – talking tactics with the pack.

"What's your plan for dealing with the energy vampire?" Jared wanted to know.

"Bella," Peter answered, his tone implying that that should have been obvious.

"Me? You're relying on _me_ to block Jax? Have you lost your mind?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

I snorted. "That's questionable. You're stronger than me – you should be the one taking care of him."

"I will; I just need you to keep him from using his power so I can kill him. Or so one of the pack can, if one of them happens to get to him first," Peter added as an afterthought.

Seeing Jacob's eyes narrow to slits, I knew this had just become a personal contest for him. "Let me get this straight. You're taking your girlfriend into a fight with bloodsuckers? Are you _trying_ to get her killed?"

"No, Bella can block from a distance – she doesn't need to be in the actual fight."

"But-"

Peter cut me off. "It'd be better if you weren't anyway, so we wouldn't have to take a chance on you getting distracted. Your focus slips and Jax can kill us all, remember?"

"That makes me feel a lot better, thanks." Somewhere I knew I should be happy he had this much confidence in me, but still… Knowing it would be up to me to keep him safe, and that he actually depended on me to do so, felt like a tangible weight on my shoulders. And that wasn't counting what any vampire could do to him even without powers above the norm for their kind… _Stop it! You'll only make yourself crazy thinking like that. _

"…Concentration is so important, one of us should stay with her to make sure she doesn't get…distracted. You can't do it; your powers let you rip up vampires by yourself, whereas it takes at least two of us working together to do the same job – we need you in the field. Bella, is there anyone in particular you would like to guard you?"

Without thinking, I blurted, "Jacob," surprising myself as much as anyone else.

###

After the strategizing session I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, weaving my hair into a tight braid to keep it out of my way during the battle. Not that it was such a big problem, but I couldn't live with myself if a stray strand of hair blowing in my face was what distracted me for the nanosecond that Jax needed to kill Peter.

I was just tying off the end with a scrunchie borrowed from Claire when Peter's voice said, "What the hell, Bella?"

Startled, I looked up at the mirror and saw him standing behind me. "What do you mean?" I asked his reflection.

"You asked Jacob to stay with you; I wanna know what's up with that. You hate Jacob."

I frowned. "I don't _hate_ Jacob - I don't really care enough. Sure, he irritates me when he's around, but when he's not I don't even think about him. It's just that when you were talking about Jax, Jacob got this look on his face, and I got this feeling that he was gonna make something personal out of trying to kill Jax before you do. If his mind's on outdoing you then it's not on the fight – not completely – and one unfocused guy might be all it takes to get someone killed. And that might… It might be you." I choked on the last word. Turning to look at Peter instead of his reflection I told him, "I can't let anything happen to you, even if it means I have to spend time alone with Jacob. I can't live without you."

He hugged me, and I locked myself onto him with a viselike grip. "I wish you wouldn't do this," I whispered.

"I'll be fine. This won't be any harder than Laurent." He ran his hand over the top of my head and down my braid, twisting it between his fingers. "Nice, but I like your hair better down."

###

Peter pinpointed Jax's location at the northern edge of Seattle and teleported everyone – except Claire, who was staying behind as she could neither block abilities nor physically fight vampires – there to save travel time. Our 'base of operations' turned out to be an abandoned building a block away from where Victoria and her cohorts were staying; Jacob took me to a room on the top floor, while the other wolves went outside to phase and circle around so they could make their approach downwind of the vampire army.

"I'll see you soon," Peter promised before leaving to join the wolves.

"Right." I swallowed hard and put on a brave face. "Oh, and Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"Kick vampire ass for me."

He snickered since I didn't normally talk that way and said, "Let me know when you've got Jax blocked." I agreed; then he was gone.

I sat cross-legged on the dusty floor, closed my eyes and took slow, deep breaths, and reached out with my mind – it felt a lot like groping in the dark.

Jacob's loud exhalation snapped me back into my own body. "So…are you gonna levitate or something?"

"Don't talk to me," I ordered without opening my eyes. "I need to concentrate, and you're supposed to be making sure nothing distracts me – not distracting me yourself."

Jacob huffed and muttered something about being reduced to a glorified babysitter.

Ignoring him, I stretched out my mind once more, passed over the telepathically linked pack and Peter, and pushed on until I finally found Jax: a metaphysical black hole designed to suck the life out of anything he touched, his power intensified by his conversion. To my surprise, I also sensed another special vampire; I wasn't sure exactly what this one could do, just that their power felt corrosive, an acidic tab on my tongue.

I blocked them quickly, relieved when I felt the lead blanket of my ability shorting out theirs, making them useless to the vampires and less unbearable to me. Letting down my natural defenses for a short moment, I thought, _It's done, but Jax isn't the only special one there. I don't know what the other one can do, though. Be careful! _I was aware of Peter's telepathy brushing my mind, receiving my mental communiqué, and picked up a vague sense of his approval, though he didn't send me any specific thoughts.

Because I was no telepath or empath, I couldn't know anything about how the physical side of the battle was going; I only knew that Jax and the other, unnamed vampire tried repeatedly to access their powers, and that they were strong enough to fight me. Suppressing someone's power and having them fight it was a unique feeling; the closest comparison I could come up with was a boxer punching me in the head again and again.

I never could have stood it except that Peter had trained me for this. Practicing with him had never been this strenuous, and I would have a killer headache in the morning, but it was worth it as long as Peter was unhurt and I was no longer being hunted.

Jax suddenly vanished, his power blinking out of existence like a snuffed-out candle. "Oh!" I gasped as my eyes popped open.

Jacob was instantly beside me, his fingers digging into my shoulder. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Yeah…I'm fine… Jax isn't though, I…I just felt him _die_."

Jacob looked a little disturbed. "You sense death?"

"I sense powers, and his just went out. It was there, and now it's not anywhere… Crap! I almost lost the other one – I need you to shut up now." I squeezed my eyes shut and buried my head in my hands in an attempt to block out everything – and it was lucky I did, because that was all that saved me from getting my skull smashed as the wall behind me exploded.

As it was, a piece of concrete flew right over me, grazing my arm. By the time I'd raised my head to look at the hole in the wall, the thing that made it was already gone; I heard a pained grunt to my left and whirled to see Jacob flying through a gap in the unfinished opposite wall, propelled by a kick from a bare white foot. The foot's owner spun gracefully to face me, her chaotic orange hair dancing like a flame around her pale, beautiful face – Victoria!

She sprang too fast for me to track her movements; all I knew was that I was suddenly airborne, her stone hand ripping my arm from its socket as she leapt through the air with me. We went out the hole she'd made on her way in and plunged toward the street; she dropped me before we landed, so that the fall didn't kill me but I hit the ground hard, a thousand spikes of pain stabbing me as the asphalt abraded what felt like every skin cell I possessed.

I bit my lip until the skin broke to stop myself from letting out more than a whimper. Victoria's laughter sounded above my head – she was enjoying my pain. She lifted me by my dislocated arm and dangled me off the ground, keeping all my weight on it; I screamed then, so loud it seemed to tear my throat.

"I'd hoped for more time with you." Her voice was unexpected: a high, sweet soprano with an undertone of sullenness, as if she'd been deprived of a long-awaited treat. "I have to be quick now, before your guard recovers enough to come after you…but this will be just as effective." She smiled as her fist shot toward me.

There was no pain as it ripped through my chest, only a crushing impact. My heart thudded impossibly fast for the merest fraction of a second before it too was crushed – I tasted the blood spewing from my mouth – then everything was gone into the all-encompassing void of nonexistence.

**So… was it okay? I've done fight scenes before so I'm reasonably confident of my ability to do those, but I haven't done one where the fight happens 'off-screen'. Still got some action in at the end, though, so maybe it's not totally boring (?) And no, this isn't the end although Victoria did kill Bella.**


	24. Darkest Hour

**Won't waste time with pre-chapter babble here, except to warn you that there's sex in this one; non-explicit, but still there. Now that I've got the obligatory warning out of the way… on to what you're really interested in!**

Chapter 24: Darkest Hour

This didn't feel like waking up. All my previous times of waking up had involved returning from sleep, which for me meant one or more dreams produced by my subconscious while my conscious mind rested. There were no dreams in the place I returned from now. I had no subconscious there, no consciousness of any kind, no body…nothing. I simply wasn't, and nothing else was either.

Then it all came back. I could feel my body around me; hardness pressed on my back. Cold. Everywhere was cold. The insides of my eyelids shone red; I opened them. Bright! Too bright! I shut my eyes tightly against the white glare and tried to turn my head away. It lolled to the side as if my neck was made of rubber.

"Bella?"

Peter! My body reacted to his voice with no instruction from my mind; though I wasn't aware of it a second ago I must have been lying on my back, because I turned onto my side to move closer to him. Whatever hard thing I lay on was too narrow, and I tumbled off its edge. Peter caught me before I hit the ground but didn't set me on my feet, instead crushing me against him until I could barely breathe.

His hold was much too tight, uncomfortably so, but I didn't fight it because something of the void out of which I'd been yanked still seemed to cling to me like a dark veil between me and the rest of reality, making everything I'd just experienced since feel strangely dreamlike. Peter's embrace, though, was solid and real and held me here, chasing away the disconcerting sensation of drifting, of being lost. Also, this place was freezing cold; that just made him holding me all the nicer.

I tried to hug him back, and something tugged on my left arm. Looking down, I saw a sort of needle-tipped tube fall to the floor – it seemed to have been pulled from my arm as I put it around Peter. That made no sense at all; why would I have a needle in my arm? "What?" I stupidly asked.

"Bella, do you…do you remember the last thing that happened before…now?"

I wracked my brain and came up with a vague image of a red-haired vampire. "Victoria…she found us…threw Jacob through a wall…then she…she hit me! That blow should have killed me…" I took my eyes off Peter and checked out the strange place we were in for the first time.

The thing I'd fallen off of was a metal slab almost like an exam table, except with no plastic covering or paper pillow. The searing white light over the table was like no doctor's office I'd ever been in, but the tray of scalpels and syringes and box of latex gloves sitting on a wheeled cart next to the table obviously belonged in some kind of medical facility… Then I looked past the table and saw that the walls were lined with rows of drawers – and I'd seen enough crime dramas to know what part of the hospital those belonged in.

"Wh-What are we doing here?" A chill that had nothing to do with the subzero thermostat setting seeped into my bones.

"Bella-"

"No."

"Bella I'm sorry, but Victoria k-"

"No!" Childishly, I put a hand over his mouth, as though by stopping him from saying the word I could make it untrue. "Don't say it!"

He removed my hand and held me close again, stroking my hair. "It's okay, you're fine now, Claire's blood brought you back and you're fine."

Sobbing for some reason I couldn't grasp, I buried my face in his shirt until one word of what he'd said penetrated my whirling brain. "Claire? Claire's here?" When he nodded I searched the room and saw her lying on another table like the one I'd awoken on, perfectly still, face white under her tan. "Claire!"

I ran to her, hardly even noticing when my collision with the metal cart knocked it into a wall, which it bounced off of with an earth-shattering _clang_. She was breathing, but her heartbeat was slow and feeble. "What happened to her?"

"You bled out after Victoria tore your chest cavity open, and your neck..." Peter cringed. "I tried just giving you the shot, but there wasn't enough blood left in your…body… Bringing you back-"

"Took too much out of her," I whispered, horrified. "You shouldn't have…just to save me…"

"I didn't make her do it, she volunteered."

Dumbstruck, I could only goggle disbelievingly.

Peter grinned at my expression. "Don't look so surprised. I'm not the only one that cares about you, you know."

I swallowed hard. "She can regenerate lost blood, right?"

"Do you honestly think I would've drained it if she couldn't?"

"No, of course not." It was a lie; if his feelings for me were anything like mine for him, I couldn't be sure what limits, if any, there were on what he would do to save me – not even if it came to a choice between my life and Claire's. _But it didn't, _I consoled myself as her pulse quickened and the deathly pallor left her skin. _She's fine. Peter wouldn't have let her do something she couldn't recover from. I might be selfish enough to do that, but he isn't._

At long last, her eyes opened. "Bella, you're alive!" She jumped up to hug me and seemed to experience the same vertiginous feeling I'd gotten, grabbing me to steady herself. Bemusement flashed across her face and she asked, "Where are your clothes?"

"Huh?" My eyes swept downward over my body, which indeed wasn't covered by a single stitch of clothing. Heat flooded my face as I realized I'd spent at least five or ten minutes – in front of Peter no less! – one hundred percent exposed. "Oh!" I squeaked, wrapping my arms around myself.

From the way Peter's eyes snapped down to my feet, I knew he hadn't registered that my clothes were gone any more than I had. He whipped his jacket off and handed it to me; though hardly an adequate replacement for the outfit I'd lost, it came halfway down my thighs – infinitely better than no cover at all.

"Thank you."

"No, I-I should've given it to you sooner. I just forgot with everything else going on."

I didn't need more specific wording to know he meant that he'd been so relieved by me coming back to life that covering me up simply hadn't occurred to him. I briefly considered asking about looking for my clothes, but discarded the thought immediately. There wouldn't be much left of my sweater anyway, and the pants… Those had to have been removed here when they went to perform the - I shuddered but forced myself to think the word – autopsy. Clothing was always removed for that. I glanced again at the table where I'd lain, dead as the proverbial doornail, and possibly undergone postmortem examination, and another tremor ripped through me. "Can you take me away from here, Peter? This place gives me the creeps."

###

Okay, so I was wrong there. It wasn't the morgue that gave me the creeps, it was the knowledge that I'd died – not been in mortal danger, not had a close brush with death, but had been truly _dead_ for a while – that scared me. If I'd ever deserved to be called thanatophobic before, it was nothing compared to how I felt now.

After learning of Edward's immortality I'd spent a lot of time brooding over my continued aging and eventual death, especially when my eighteenth birthday made me older than him, yet I had always imagined death as an event separated from me by years, decades – after all, I wasn't even twenty yet – during which I could persuade Edward to change me into a vampire long before I had to worry about dying. Before I appeared noticeably older than him, really; at least, that was what I'd hoped for.

But now… Now my comfort zone had been torn violently away. Death had leaped across the time that ought to have stood between it and me and claimed me before I'd had a chance to fight, to try to evade it, to just comprehend that my life was about to end. It had nearly happened on three previous occasions, so maybe it shouldn't have shaken me so deeply except that this time really was different. This time death hadn't merely touched me, it had swallowed me whole.

I closed my eyes for a second against a trickle of shampoo down my forehead – and the black chasm expanded behind my lids. Terror burst inside my head and I didn't notice or care when the shampoo stung my reopened eyes. I slid down the shower's wet wall to sit on its floor; my legs were shaking too badly to support me. Staring between my knees at the water swirling down the drain, I wondered if I would ever sleep again.

Half an hour later, I was beginning to seriously doubt it. Though exhausted, I couldn't close my eyes without feeling like I might fall into that darkness again. The clock said it was two AM, and I was still wide awake. I was in Claire's room, as was customary when I stayed here, but her presence brought me no comfort tonight. Tonight she wasn't the one I wanted to sleep with.

I slid out from under the covers without disturbing them at all; I didn't want to wake her. Creeping out of her room and shutting the door behind me, I was silent as a shadow – as a ghost. This both unsettled me and brought an ironic smile to my lips. In a way I _was_ ghostlike, returned after my death to haunt places I'd known in life. Seeing my pale hand almost glowing in the hallway's darkness intensified the feeling that my renewed hold on life was tenuous…that having died, I no longer belonged with the living. Thinking those things frightened me.

The door to Peter's room was shut, but I saw a thin band of light between it and the floor. I was intrigued; shouldn't he be asleep by now? I pushed it open and found him standing by his unmade bed, still fully dressed. He stood with his back to me; I rapped softly on the doorframe to let him know I was there.

Apparently deep in thought, he started at the barely audible sound. "Bella? What are you doing here?"

Taking courage from the fact that his voice and face held no displeasure, only surprised confusion, I slipped all the way into his room. "I can't sleep."

"Me either."

"Doesn't look like you've tried," I noted.

"I already know I won't be able to; I can't stop thinking about you." He took a step closer to me, something like hunger simmering behind his eyes.

My stomach lurched as if I was on a roller coaster that was just starting to move; I ignored the slight fear and fuelled the excitement by edging closer as well. "Why are you thinking about me?"

He closed the last bit of distance between us and his fingers curled around my upper arms, holding me securely but keeping enough space between us that I didn't have to crane my neck to make eye contact. I appreciated that; I neither could nor wanted to look away from his eyes right now. "I lost you tonight, Bella. Seeing you like that… If Claire hadn't been able to bring you back I-"

"Claire's not the one who knows how to do blood transfusions. You brought me back – I came back for _you_, Peter. Not Claire. I do love her but…ever since I came back it's felt like I'm not really here, like I might slip away again if I close my eyes for one second." I paused and checked to see if I was losing him; he seemed to understand me perfectly, as he always did. "Right now, though, I feel like I'm here…because I'm with you."

Peter crushed me to him then, kissing me with an almost urgent passion. His tongue ran over my lower lip and I relaxed my jaw slightly to allow him access to my mouth, which he took full advantage of.

I panted when we broke apart for air, and his voice was rougher than usual as he said, "Stay with me." It was worded as a command, but his tone made it a request; he wouldn't argue if I wanted to leave, refused to take this any further.

Refusing never crossed my mind. I hadn't come to him for sex, just comfort, but there was no doubt that was where our late-night encounter was headed - and I wanted it. "Yes," I gasped out in the half-second before he kissed me again, this time so forcefully that I was lifted off my feet. He finally put me down, but only so he could telekinetically close the door.

Then he took my hand. "Come here." He gently pulled me to the bed, then asked, "Are you sure you wanna do this? You don't have to."

"I do – want to, I mean. Just…take it slow?"

"Sure." And he picked up where we'd left off.

There was nothing different about the way he touched me at first, and a vague suspicion formed in the back of my mind that he didn't really expect me to go through with it. Thinking he needed to be shown just how serious I was, I slid my hands down his chest and started unbuttoning his shirt. He froze but didn't stop me, and when I was done with the buttons he let me push it off his shoulders so that it fell to the floor.

I ran my hands over his bare skin, exploring how it felt with no material in the way and deciding I liked it better like this. When my fingers made their way down his stomach and met his jeans I stopped, unsure what to do next. We'd never gone so far before, and we'd long since blown past any reference points past experience might have given me – of which there weren't that many to begin with. Mentally cursing myself for not taking into account the ways my inexperience could humiliate me, I slid my hand a bit lower, intending to just improvise.

Peter trapped it under his hand before I had a chance to reach for anything lower than his belt buckle. "Why don't you let me take it from here?"

"Um…okay."

He pushed me out of his lap so that I sat beside him, ran his hands up to the collar of my pajama top, held it… and it disintegrated under his fingers. The thread and cloth just fell apart, the way old clothes sometimes did – but only after several years. I happened to know my pajamas were nowhere near old enough to crumble off me like they had.

"That's new," I mumbled, bowing my head so that my hair hid the flush spreading over my face. Embarrassment was irrational – this wasn't the first or even the second time he'd seen me naked – but he hadn't paid attention to my body either of those times. This time he wasn't paying attention to anything else.

"Yeah, it is; like you said, Jax wasn't the only talented one with Victoria."

"Oh yeah…" All but forgotten, the other power I'd felt earlier came back to mind. "So the other guy had a disintegrating touch?"

"It was actually a girl that had it – but haven't we wasted enough time on vampires tonight?" He gave me a gentle push backward. Understanding that he wanted me to lie down, I let myself fall back, resting my head on his pillow and staring up at the ceiling. He lay down beside me, leaned over me but did nothing more serious yet. "Are you really sure about this?"

"I am." My voice held a tiny tremor.

"You're scared."

I shook my head. "Not scared, exactly – more like nervous. I…never… That is to say, I- I haven't done…this…before." My cheeks were burning now; I tried to turn my head away, but Peter caught my chin. I closed my eyes instead – anything to avoid his searching gaze.

"Bella, look at me."

Reluctantly, I peered up at him through my lashes.

"You and Edward never…"

"No," I said forcefully. "He said we couldn't – that he was too strong and he could hurt me. So we just…never got past kissing." Peter absorbed all this with a thoughtful expression; I waited for one of the longest moments of my life before forcing myself to ask, "Does this change your mind about…me? Knowing that I'm a- You know, that I don't have any 'experience'?"

The question was unexpected. "What? No. It's just that I've never been anyone's first time before."

I had to admit I was glad to hear that, to know this would be something new for him as well. Maybe even something special.

"Does that make you happy?" he asked, watching my face carefully.

I smiled. "Yeah, it does." I stretched up to kiss him again, lay back down and pulled him with me. "I'm ready now."

I'd thought about this moment sometimes, but contemplating sex and doing it turned out to be as different as imagining my first kiss and kissing Edward had been. Nothing could have prepared me for this, not even the way Peter had touched me before Claire's arrival had cut our interlude short – and that was the farthest I'd ever gone with anyone until tonight.

Yet that previous night didn't even begin to compare. It was the best feeling I'd ever had, being this close to Peter, so close that everything else fell away until nothing existed for me but him. I thought he must be feeling the same way; except for the few times he kissed my lips or throat he gazed almost unblinkingly into my eyes, reading every emotion and sensation displayed there.

When it was over I went limp, waiting for my breathing to return to normal. My heart finally quit trying to jump into my throat; I rolled over to find Peter watching me.

"How do you feel?" He brushed the tangled hair back from my forehead and then held his hand on my face as he waited anxiously for my answer.

"Umm…" How did I feel? "Good – really, really good, actually. I mean, everything feels different – well obviously, right? – and I'm guessing I'll have to take some kind of pill in the morning, but other than that stuff this just felt…right. Being with you was exactly what I needed after- after everything. But," I cautioned him, "I don't know if I want to do it again, at least not right away, okay?"

"That's fine. I just… I love you, Bella Swan."

I smiled and wormed my way into his arms. "I love you too, Peter Petrelli." With him beside me I was able to sleep at last, finally certain that I really had gotten through this night. The crisis was over, I was alive, Peter was alive, and we were together; for the first time since waking up in the morgue, I felt like things might really be all right again.

**So now that you know Bella's not dead and might pay attention to me now (maybe) I have a couple things I want to say:**

**One, this chapter's for Auxi and pixie freak – Auxi because you requested the B/P 'interaction', and pixie freak because I tried to keep it as above brow as possible for you; hope it came out all right. **

**Two, apology for updating a few days late! We lost communication with the Internet satellite thing for three days and couldn't receive email, get online at all, or connect to the iTunes store (although that last one doesn't really impact my writing/updating). But still, I'd like to go on record as saying I HATE modern technology sometimes!**


	25. Aftermath, Pt 1

**There was supposed to be more happening in this chapter, except that it got too long so I decided to split it into two parts; that way I could go ahead and post something and you wouldn't have to wait so long (happy-making, right?) **

**Oh, and the part that I did get finished has some more of that stuff you shouldn't read to younger siblings (i.e. adult-ish stuff) – consider yourselves warned! Hmm, that came out more ominous than I'd intended. Oh well… **

**5/31/2012 edit: yesterday I decided to go through this story and fix some things I didn't like about it, and the updated/revised version of this chapter is a little racier than the original. I've therefore decided to up the rating to M since in my opinion it deals with some mature subject matter.**

Chapter 25: Aftermath, Pt. 1

My first thought when I woke up was that last night had to have been a dream. There was no way I'd really been killed by Victoria, brought back to life, and lost my virginity all in one night, was there? Then my just-woke-up grogginess dissipated enough for me to gain a sense of my surroundings; finding myself in Peter's bed, curled up with him, I needed less than a second to realize sleeping with him hadn't been a dream at all, so nothing else had been either.

Thinking back to the way Victoria's fist had punched through my chest, crushing my heart, I wondered how it could have seemed probable for even the tiniest fraction of time that I'd dreamed _that_ up. All the terror and trauma I'd experienced seemed unbearably and inescapably real now that I was awake.

_But still, the night wasn't all bad. _I rolled over and saw that Peter was still asleep. Not wanting to wake him, I carefully wriggled out from under his arm, slid to the edge of the bed, and looked around for something to put on. Unfortunately, everything I'd worn when I came in here was gone thanks to Peter's new disintegrating touch, and the clothes I'd brought for my 'sleepover' were in Claire's room. Deciding I did _not_ feel like running down the hall and, if she happened to wake up when I came in, explaining what had happened to my pajamas, I retrieved Peter's t-shirt from the floor and pulled it on; it didn't cover me as much as I'd like, but it would suffice.

I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth, but got sidetracked when I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I barely recognized the girl looking back at me: my lips were swollen, my neck was mottled with scattered red marks from Peter's kisses, and my inner thighs were bloody. Light bruises had formed there overnight as well. They were nothing serious – probably wouldn't be visible on someone less melanin-deficient – but on me they stood out in sharp relief. For the first time in living memory I was grateful for the perpetually cool weather that made shorts and low necklines impractical even in late March.

I was sure Claire wouldn't mind giving me a little more blood to get rid of them, but I had no intention of asking. Last night had changed my life so absolutely, so irrevocably, that erasing the physical evidence seemed like a futile gesture, even a silly one. Compared to the memories that would remain etched on my mind and soul forever, a few bruises seemed inconsequential, insignificant.

By the time I emerged from the bathroom, Peter was up and dressed in yesterday's jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. I stood there uncertainly, not knowing what to say, until he noticed me. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, fine. But tell me…" I gestured down at my purplish-yellow-blotched skin. "Is this, you know, normal? There was blood too, but I washed it off."

"That's normal for the first time you have sex, and I bet you only bruised because you're so pale. But that wasn't what I was asking about."

"I know, and I really am fine. But, well, I didn't exactly plan on…doing what we did. I don't regret it or anything but-"

"But you wouldn't have slept with me if you weren't freaked over the thing with Victoria?"

"Probably not," I admitted, blushing furiously. "Does that make you angry?"

Peter hugged me close, letting me bury my face against his chest, and I returned the hug, crumpling his shirt in my fists as I waited apprehensively for him to answer. Although the incident under discussion had been an ill-advised response to me freaking out, as he'd correctly guessed, it had also been the very best moment of my life, and tied me to him in a way I'd never connected with anyone else. That was why I felt compelled to be completely upfront with him now, even though when I went to his room last night I'd hardly intended to let on that I was there mostly because I couldn't stand to be alone. I just hadn't considered that things might go as far as they had.

"I can't be angry with you. And while we're being all honest with each other, I have to tell you I was pretty freaked out too. You know, after what she did to you and-and seeing you like that-" His voice cracked and broke off midsentence. "It's harder than I can tell you seeing the person you're in love with that way," he said after pausing to rein in whatever he was feeling.

"I can't imagine it; if I'd been in your place last night, I would've fallen apart and been no help at all."

"Don't sell yourself short, Bella. I thought you were kind of a wimp when we first met, but you're a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for."

I laughed softly. "Thanks, Peter, I appreciate that even if it's ridiculous."

"It's not – you're the one that blocked the vamps from using their powers, and we'd all have been dead if you hadn't."

Flushing again, I tried changing the subject. "Hey, I'm hungry. Why don't we go downstairs and I'll make something for breakfast?"

"You go on. I'll be there in a minute, I just have to pick up something first." Peter bent down to kiss my forehead, then vanished.

My arms dropped to my sides as the space he'd occupied a second ago was abruptly vacated. "New rule: he's gotta start giving me a five-second warning before he does that." Muttering to myself, I traipsed down to the kitchen and began assembling the ingredients for omelets.

###

Peter materialized right in front of me as I was setting the table. "Hey, I'm back."

I jumped and dropped the forks. "Sheesh! You know, just because I've had a few months to get used to that doesn't mean it doesn't startle me anymore. Where the hell did you go anyway?"

"Pharmacy. We were both acting on impulse last night, but that doesn't mean we should keep being reckless now."

"Oh…right." I swallowed the morning-after pill he gave me, marveling at how embarrassing the action was. "Thanks, I guess. That's really, um, practical." I turned back to the stove and dished up the omelets in an attempt to cover my discomfort, though I should have known Peter would sense it anyway.

As soon as I put the plate I held on the table, he sat down, pulled me into his lap, and asked what was wrong.

"Nothing's wrong, exactly. It's just that I've had a lot to process all at once."

"Yeah, most people would be having a breakdown by now, but you – you're doing great."

The admiration in his voice made me smile. "Only because you're here." I leaned on his shoulder, rubbed my cheek on his sweatshirt's dark gray fabric. He held still and watched my face, his mouth curling into an affectionate half-smile. After a couple minutes of this I reminded him of the omelet that was sitting in front of him getting cold.

He obediently dug in, then asked, "Don't you want some?"

I truly didn't care about food at the moment, but I ate a few bites just because Peter apparently thought I should be hungry. Then I went right back to my previous position leaning on him, content just to watch him and feel his arm around me.

If it was up to me I might never have moved again but, unfortunately, the doorbell rang right after Peter finished eating, and he had to get up to answer the door. Suddenly mindful of my half-dressed state, I hung back out of sight, though I crept closer to eavesdrop when I recognized Sam's voice.

"…No sign of her," he was saying. "We think it was pure luck that she wasn't with those she created when we attacked, but once she realized what was happening, she never came to help them. It seems she circled the block while we were busy with the others to get to Bella, then disappeared."

"Pure luck, yeah," Peter repeated angrily. "Well, I scanned Jax's mind before I took his head off and got a good look at Victoria from his memory – good enough that I can focus on it to track her down. That bitch won't get away with th-"

"Peter Petrelli!" I exclaimed, running into the living room where he stood with Sam and colliding with him so forcefully that he staggered when he caught me. Ignoring the fact that I'd almost knocked us both over, I all but yelled at him, "You _cannot_ seriously be thinking about chasing after Victoria!"

"She ran off while the pack and I were busy with the other vamps and killed you! I won't let her get away with that!"

"Yes you will!" I was shouting in earnest now. "Peter, if Victoria bolted before you brought me back, she thinks I'm still dead! Don't you understand? If she thinks I'm dead, she won't come back! She'll leave us alone – we won't have to deal with vampires anymore! But if you go after her she might- You could get- I don't- How can you even-?" I sputtered incoherently, fear and distress bringing the blood to my face once more.

"Bella- hey, Bella, calm down!" Peter shook me, cutting off the stream of words pouring from my mouth. "It kills me, but I'll leave the bitch alone if that's what you want." I stared into his eyes, searching for any hint of dishonesty. "I mean it, okay?"

I drew in a deep, shaky breath. "Okay. Okay, it's just that no matter what you can do you're still human and thinking about you fighting vampires – that's enough to give me a nervous breakdown. You can't scare me like that; you can't go do crazy stuff that'll get you killed, okay? You just can't – not ever! I need you here, with me."

"All right, all right, just cool it." He looked freaked by my outburst, making me feel a little guilty.

I glanced away and met Sam's eyes briefly before they were quickly averted, reminding me that my current attire was a bit too revealing. "Excuse me." I edged back toward the kitchen, only to bump into Claire at the bottom of the stairs.

Her eyes flitted over me, taking in my slightly puffy lips, Peter's shirt, and my bruised inner thighs; first they grew wide as saucers, and then I could practically see the shutters close behind them as she decided this was one of those things she should see without really taking in. When she spoke, her voice was carefully neutral. "I just happened to look out the window and saw Charlie's cruiser turn onto this street. Since he's probably coming to give you a ride home, you'd better get dressed before he gets here."

"Right, thanks for the heads-up." As I started up the stairs I glanced over my shoulder to see her watching me go with an uncharacteristically blank expression. "Claire, can I- can I talk to you for a minute?"

She hesitated, but followed me up to her room. Then she shut and leaned on the door, folded her arms, and asked in a not-unfriendly way, "What do you want, Bella? Because if it's something about you and Peter, I'd really rather not hear it. I guess I _can _if you wanna talk about it, you know, girl to girl, but-"

"I don't want to talk about the sex," I interrupted as I shuffled into my underwear and pants. "I just need to know…if you're mad at me? Do you think I'm a slut now?"

Claire gave a short, surprised laugh. "Do I _what_? Why would I think that about you? You're my best friend and besides, I think you have to do it with more than one guy to qualify as a slut. But I can't help noticing you look banged up – no pun intended. Was it…you know…rough?"

"No," I lied, turning away to hide my reddened face as I remembered the edge of desperation in our touches and kisses, the way he'd used my hair to pull my head back so his mouth could reach my throat, how I'd bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood before it healed as my fingernails raked his back… In fact, if not for absorbing Claire's ability, he wouldn't be in any better shape than me this morning.

I knew Claire wouldn't want to know this any more than I wanted to tell her, so I kept my back to her as I exchanged Peter's shirt for mine.

"Uh-oh, that won't work," Claire said when I turned around. I raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Throat," she explained. "You don't want Charlie to see that." She rummaged through her closet and pulled out a cream-colored turtleneck. "Here, put this on instead; it looks enough like something you'd wear that he won't know the difference."

I gratefully accepted the offered shirt, stuffed mine into my overnight bag, scraped my hair into something resembling a ponytail, and made it to the top of the stairs just as Charlie's voice sounded from the front door.

He looked around, smiling when he saw me and Claire. "Hey, Bells. Ready to go home?"

I shot an involuntary glance at Peter, who nodded, indicating that I should go with Charlie. Panic bubbled in the pit of my stomach; I didn't know how I was supposed to go home and act like everything was all fine and normal. I'd only held it together so far because of Peter – I was safe with him, I never had to pretend for him.

But I couldn't stay with him all the time. Although I never questioned that I was important to him, he did have other things to do besides spend every minute of every day with me. So I got in the cruiser and let Charlie take me back to his house – the house I lived in, but that didn't give me that comforting feeling of coming home when I walked inside.

Home meant only one thing to me now. And he wasn't here.

**Ch26 will pick up immediately after this, since it was meant to be one big long chapter. And I already have a lot of it written, which means maybe you won't have to wait a whole week this time *cheer*!**


	26. Aftermath, Pt 2

**Okay, this turned out incredibly long! So it's a good thing I went ahead with posting ch25 or I would've kept you waiting WAY too long, which I hate to do – it gives me a nasty little guilty feeling.**

**This chap was meant to have some interaction between Bella and Jacob about his part in the 'Victoria episode', and it does have that, but then I decided to add more P/B romance at the end – hence the lengthiness. There's also major angst, so go get some chocolate after reading! Chocolate makes everything better.**

Chapter 26: Aftermath, Pt. 2

Charlie, in one of his rare 'attentive parent moments', hung around the house with me until noon, and mentioned over lunch that I seemed unusually quiet. "Something wrong, Bells?" he asked as I nibbled listlessly at my grilled cheese sandwich.

_Oh, no, I just went out last night to help my boyfriend (who no one even knows I'm dating because social standards dictate that he's too old for me) and a pack of werewolves get rid of the vampire army that was being created to hunt me – you know, the usual. Then while they were fighting, the vampires' leader gave them the slip, found me and _killed _me, and I woke up in a morgue after Claire's blood brought me back – oh yeah, my best friend can in fact raise the dead, by the way…_

"No, Dad, I'm fine."

Charlie must've detected the false note in my voice or just inferred from my behavior that something was wrong, because he watched me closely while I washed the dishes and did a load of laundry. By the time I finished folding and putting away the clean clothes I couldn't take his scrutiny any longer, so I escaped under the pretext of going to the supermarket although we didn't need any groceries.

Instead of going in, I parked my truck at the back of the lot and meandered along the side of the road with no destination in mind. All I knew was that I couldn't stand to be around people, with their curious eyes, prying questions…and their ordinary, mundane minds that couldn't understand if by some chance I tried to explain why I was down today.

###

After hiking for what must have been a long while, lost in my thoughts, I stumbled and fell. Catching myself on the heels of my hands, I looked back to see what had tripped me and saw that my foot was caught in a tangled clump of grass. I freed it but stayed crouched on the ground, taking in my surroundings for the first time. I'd wandered out onto a lonely stretch of road where the forest gathered close around the pavement, limbs stretching over it and sometimes meeting in a dense green canopy, where there were no signs of human life in sight. Through the gaps between branches I could see patches of gray sky. It was a fitting backdrop for my mental state.

Some unseen thing rustled in the foliage; I searched it, suddenly feeling like I wasn't as alone as I'd thought. My hands balled into fists as I stood up. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

More rustling answered my call, then the russet-skinned, shorts-clad figure of one of the pack stepped out of the trees. I stayed where I was as he approached, not wanting to say anything until he was close enough for me to identify him. "Hey, Bella," he said in a subdued voice.

"Hello, Jacob," came my inflectionless reply, none of the perplexity I felt coloring my tone. What was Jacob doing here? He'd obviously been running as a wolf, but just for the sake of running or to watch me? And why resume human form to chat? "Why's Sam making you patrol today? There aren't new vampires in the area, are there?" My eyes widened in alarm.

"No, there's no bloodsuckers," he assured me. "I was running on my own. Then I caught your scent and…I wanted to talk to you."

I strolled over to a fallen log and sat straddling it; Jacob remained on his feet, never taking his eyes off me. "What?" I asked when his staring passed the limits of social acceptability.

He stayed silent for a moment, chewing his lip, then, "Is it really you, Bella?"

"Of course it's me. Who else would it be?"

"And are you still…you?"

"I don't understand. How would I not be me?"

Jacob twitched anxiously but persisted. "Last night… You were dead, Bella. I saw your body, and there was _no way _you could've still been alive! But now you are. How's that possible?"

"Peter and Claire," I said simply. Jacob frowned, so I continued with a sigh. "You've seen how Claire heals when she gets hurt; if her blood's injected into someone else it can heal them too, even if they're dead. Peter gave me a blood transfusion and I came back."

"You did? I mean, did you _really _come back? I can tell you're not a leech but- but being dead didn't change you at _all_?"

I smirked. "No, I'm the same old Bella except…I want to eat your brain," I intoned in my best zombie moan. Jacob actually backed up a step, making me snicker. "That was a joke, y'know. Besides, you can't seriously tell me _you'd_ be afraid of a zombie. They're supposed to be all slow and uncoordinated – which makes it easy to see how you'd confuse me with one – nothing like vampires." Jacob blanched. "What's wrong?"

"Last night…" He hesitated before pouring everything out in a rush. "I was supposed to keep you safe! But I was angry about being left out of the fight and about what I overheard – that you only wanted me with you because you were afraid I'd get your boyfriend hurt – and I blew it! There was only one leech there, but I let her catch me off guard and because of that she was able to kill you! Bella, it's my fault you died!" He started shaking.

"Whoa, calm down!" I jerked away, lost my balance, and fell off the log, landing on a tree limb.

Jacob's face floated into view, peering down over the log. "You all right?"

"Oh yeah, apart from being afraid that you were about to phase and maul me and this damn branch poking me in the back, I'm just peachy," I grunted. "Give me a hand, will you?"

After pulling me back onto the log, Jacob sat next to me and said, "There's something else I wanted to say – well, to ask you, really. Your boyfriend – why'd he do what he did?"

I blinked in confusion. "Because he loves me, of course! Why would anyone leave somebody they loved dead if they had a way to bring them back?"

"I get that part; what I don't understand is why he helped _me_ when he wouldn't have needed to bring you back if I hadn't screwed up and gotten you killed in the first place!"

"Huh? What did Peter ever do for _you_?" I could imagine lots of things he might do _to _Jacob, but all of those fit more into the category of 'harmful' than 'helpful'.

"You mean he didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" I asked sharply.

Jacob explained that after getting thrown through the wall, he'd run outside in pursuit of Victoria, but of course by then she was gone and I was dead, and he forgot all about chasing her when he saw my body – although he glossed over that part, I gathered from the sickened look on his face that it… _I_… must have been a gruesome sight.

He went on to say that someone must have heard the fight taking place one block over and called the police, because three entire squads showed up to investigate the area, arriving just in time to find Jacob bending over my corpse. They'd assumed the worst and arrested him for murdering me; I had a hard time believing human police officers capable of apprehending a werewolf, but Jacob said they'd had guns and, "Just because we're not zombies doesn't mean we can't be wasted with a headshot." So Jacob had taken the proverbial ride downtown, where he'd been put in a holding cell.

"But you're so strong. Couldn't you have broken out?"

"Maybe, I don't know. I couldn't expose the pack by phasing in a police station and we've never tested the limits of our strength when we're human. Anyway, they brought me in because it looked like I'd butchered you-" He choked up midsentence; I understood then.

"You wouldn't have tried to break out even if you could've," I stated matter-of-factly. "You felt like you deserved to be there."

Apparently unable to speak, he nodded. There was nothing in the way of tears that I could see, but I did catch a glimpse of his face twisting in agony before he turned away. "I'm so…so sorry…Bella…forgive me…"

There were times when I thought some of Peter's empathy might be rubbing off on me – this was one of those times. I intuitively sensed the reason why Jacob had run off by himself, why he was breaking down after meeting me: it was through what he perceived as his negligence that I'd died, which was a horrible thing to have on his conscience. That was really what depressed him, more than any grief over me in particular; also, his pack was supposed to be all about protecting humans from vampires, and Jacob felt like he'd let them all down by failing to protect me.

I watched him fall apart, but neither said nor did anything. There was nothing I could do, no words of comfort I could offer. It wasn't that I thought he deserved to be eaten up with guilt – I had never once blamed him for not fending off Victoria – it was more that trying to cope took everything in me, leaving no room to feel for anyone else.

Except Peter, of course, and Claire to a lesser extent – she was as much a part of my family as Charlie and Renée, and Peter, well, him not affecting me was simply impossible. I loved him too much.

I did not, however, love Jacob. Not that I'd ever thought I did, but I'd never been so certain that I _didn't_ as I was now – because his pain had no effect on me whatsoever. That disturbed me as soon as I registered it; no, I didn't love or even particularly like Jacob, but seeing anyone – be they friend, enemy, or total stranger – look so broken ought to affect me. Ought to affect any decent person. And yet there I was, impassive as the log I sat on.

Fear flared in me again – _had _I somehow come back wrong, as Jacob had worried I might? What if my feeling of being disconnected from the world around me had nothing to do with trauma over my violent death, but with some change inside me from having _been _dead? And if I was never going to get back to the way I'd been before, how was I supposed to keep up the act for Charlie and everyone at school? _What am I going to do? _

"Bella?" Jacob had gotten himself under control and was giving me a worried stare. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine," I lied for the second time today. "You should quit beating yourself up over last night. I don't blame you for it. You never told me what happened after you got arrested, what Peter had to do with it." The words came out mechanically; I was more concerned with shifting Jacob's attention off of me than with hearing the rest of his story.

"Oh yeah… Well, after seeing the shape you were in, the cops seemed ready to pin the bloodsuckers' whole murder spree on me. They weren't even going to give me my one phone call – not that there was anyone I could call except Dad, for all the good that would've done – but then your boyfriend showed up, did some of that mind mojo he does on the guards, and they let me right out. He said no one would remember anything about thinking I'd killed anybody and there wouldn't be anything on record about bringing me in, however he planned to work that." Jacob snorted. "Can he really do all that?"

"Sure, he can erase memories and do some weird techno-voodoo thing that could definitely wipe an arrest off police records."

Jacob blinked, taken aback. "Whoa. Huh. Guess he really can do anything, huh?" His voice was curious rather than disparaging, unlike all the other times he'd spoken to or about Peter.

I pulled my lips back from my teeth and hoped it looked like I was smiling. "He can't cook at all, but he is very powerful even by our standards, yes."

"And when you say 'our standards' you mean…"

"I mean 'our' as in 'posthuman standards', not as in 'yours and mine'," I clarified with a weary sigh. "And this is where you start in on my kind again, right? Please, Jacob, just don't. My day's crappy enough already without hearing about how we're all a bunch of mutant freaks."

Refraining from making some comment to that effect seemed extremely difficult, but Jacob managed it.

"It's getting late – I need to go home." It wasn't all that late, but I didn't think I could take another minute of sitting here trying to make conversation. There was exactly one person I wanted – no, _needed_ – to talk with, and it wasn't Jacob Black.

"Okay, I'll take you home."

"I have to get my truck," I said quickly.

"Where is it?"

I hurried through the grocery shopping cover story I'd given Charlie and how I'd left my truck parked in front of the store.

"So I'll take you there," Jacob said when I finished explaining.

"Thanks but no thanks; I think I can make it back alone."

He rolled his eyes. "I meant that I'll give you a ride. It'll take you till after sundown to get there."

"You don't have t-"

"It's the least I can do." After a moment's hesitation he added, "Please, Bella. Let me help you out this time."

_Whatever floats his boat. _I couldn't find the willpower to argue. "Fine, take me back, then."

###

My legs held out just long enough for me to lock my bedroom door and then folded beneath me; I collapsed into a crumpled heap of a human doorstop, too exhausted – emotionally if not physically – to stay up.

However, I wasn't down long before someone stronger than me pulled my dead weight off the floor. What brought him here was a mystery to me, but whatever it was I couldn't complain. I clutched at him the way a drowning person would a lifeline as he sat me on my bed; I needed him _that _much.

"Why'd you come here?" My voice was no more than a whisper.

"You needed me," he said, as if it should have been obvious that he would come whenever I needed him.

"I _always _need you, Peter, never forget that. But how did you know I needed you more than usual right now?"

Peter gave me a puzzled frown. "Wasn't getting me here the point of you opening your mind?"

"But I d- Holy crow, I really am losing it!" I wailed, smacking my forehead.

"Okay, you lost me."

"I didn't unshield on purpose – I didn't even know I had! What if…what if something's gone wrong in me?" Big fat tears spilled from my eyes; I turned my head away and tried to keep my sniffling as quiet as possible, ashamed of the way I was falling to pieces.

Peter tried to make me face him again, but I pulled my chin out of his grasp, keeping my face firmly to the wall. He sighed. "Bella, look at me."

"No."

"Yes. _Now_, Bella."

Reluctantly, I turned back to him but kept my head down so that my hair fell around my face, a dark curtain between us. "There, happy?" I asked sullenly.

He ignored that. "Why do you think there's something wrong with you?"

"Because that seems to happen a lot to people like us! First there was Sylar turning into a monster because of his ability, then there was the time you overloaded and ended up in a coma for two weeks, and after that you exploded and _then _absorbed Sylar's intuition and almost became like him! And don't forget Claire, who can't die or even feel pain anymore. Sometimes I wonder whether Jacob Black's right in thinking we're freaks."

"How'd Jacob Black get in this conversation?"

"Ran into him out on the back roads today," I mumbled. "He told me that the cops found him with me last night and arrested him, and that you used your powers to get him out of jail. That's why you were still up when I went to your room, isn't it?" At his nod I asked, "What'd you do that for? You don't even like Jacob."

"Sam asked me to. And-" Peter shrugged "-Jacob might be a pain in the ass, but that doesn't mean he deserves to be locked up for a crime he didn't commit."

"Like you were after saving Claire at her homecoming."

He said nothing, but smiled, pleased at how quick on the uptake I was. "So now that I've 'fessed up to helping that mutt, can we get back to what exactly you think's happened to you?"

I shifted uncomfortably. "I don't wanna talk about it – I'll handle it without your help." Catching the flicker of hurt in Peter's eyes, I groaned. "Ugh, don't look at me like that! I'm not trying to push you away, I just- You've trained me for so long, helped me so much, that I think it's time I start dealing on my own, before…"

"Before what?"

"Before you get so sick of me using you as a crutch that you leave me," I whispered, staring fixedly at my hands where they curled limply in my lap, unwilling to reach for him and risk him pulling away.

Scared as I was of his reaction, the silence finally grew so loud that I had to look up just to be sure he was still there. To my great relief, he was; less reassuring was the way he was looking at me: stunned and almost wounded, as if I'd hit him. "Bella Swan," he said at last, "do you seriously still worry about that?"

"How can I not?" I asked, bringing my knees up to my chest and hugging myself. "Let's face it – why _would _you want to stay with me anyway, when I can't cope with the kinds of things that happen to you on a regular basis without dissolving into a pathetic puddle of tears? I should just quit bothering you and go out with Mike Newton; he's the only one I'm good enough for, and at least working in his family's store is one of the few things I'm not totally inept at-"

Peter caught my chin, snapping my jaw shut so forcefully that my teeth met with an audible _click_. "Bella, shut up."

I froze, wide-eyed. He'd been angry with me the night of our run-in with Laurent, but even then he hadn't used this tone with me, and the look in his eyes was the same one he'd had when he tried using Sylar's intuition to discover my ability and his control had slipped, after which he'd very nearly tried to kill me. It was too easy to forget how dangerous he could be, even more so than with Edward since Peter was human – moments like these, though, drove that point home, forced me to remember that my new boyfriend was probably higher on the danger scale than my old one. After all, a vampire couldn't decimate an entire city in a second…

…_But Peter _won't _even though he _can_. And he would _never_ hurt me. _I knew that in every fiber of my being, which was why I felt no fear even though he was holding me a little too tightly for comfort. I just stared into his eyes, hypnotized, my heart pounding as I waited for whatever he would say next.

"You'd be miserable spending the rest of your life working in the Newtons' store, and you sure as hell do _not _belong with Mike."

"How do you know?" All the sullenness was gone from my voice, replaced with breathless anticipation; after all the times I'd had similar conversations with Edward – in which he'd repeatedly said I should be with Mike or someone like him, living a normal human life – I wanted to hear Peter say something different, tell me that I wasn't stupid for turning my back on the ordinary world I'd never fit into.

He softened just enough to let me breathe regularly again. "I know you, Bella – you never trusted anyone but me and Claire with what the Cullens really were, not even Charlie and Renée. You won't even tell them what _you _really are."

"They'd flip if I did, they wouldn't understand…"

"Maybe, maybe not. The point is that you don't trust them enough to find out, and if you hide parts of yourself from your own parents, I can't see you letting Mike Newton in. Huh, now that I think about it, it makes way too much sense that you have a shield – you're so good at shutting everyone out."

"Not everyone," I murmured. "I opened up to you, more than I thought I ever could to anyone – and I don't just mean because I slept with you. No one understands me like you, Peter, and ever since I came back, the only time I don't feel completely disconnected from the rest of the world is when I'm with you." It was easy to admit how much I relied on him, even as I hated how needy that made me sound and wondered how on earth he'd put up with me this long.

"And feeling disconnected makes you think something's wrong with you," Peter said thoughtfully.

My heart sped up as I scooted closer, trailed my fingers up his arm and hooked my leg over both of his. "It's better when you're here, though."

"You should stick with me, then. I'll always bring you back, no matter what happens to you."

I read the double meaning in those words; he didn't want to bring up what I'd said about him getting fed up and leaving me, and this was his way of telling me he would always be here to bring me back, to keep me from feeling completely isolated inside my untouchable mind, without mentioning it. "That's all I'm asking for," I told him, and leaned across the last bit of space between us.

And we connected.

**The next chap will have a six-week time gap after this one to give Bella time to recover from being all traumatized over dying (which I wrote because being dead for a while would traumatize me in a big way.) But trauma and depression are hard to write about for more than a chapter or two, so the next one will be less angst, more drama. Bella and Claire will graduate, Renee will come to Forks, and Bella and Peter… Well, something fairly cataclysmic will happen with them that may or may not change their relationship… maybe even break them up… but I'm keeping the details to myself! *Smirks* I have way too much fun being evil. **


	27. Commencement

**Yay, I finally got the graduation chapter done! It's super long because I did a bunch of stuff with Renee – more than strictly necessary but it's her only appearance in the entire story, so I wanted to give her more than a paragraph. **

**Warning: the ending is sort of PG/PG-13, and definitely cliffie-ish. I also had lots of fun with this chap (I have a somewhat kooky sense of humor). **

Chapter 27: Commencement

"Free at last!" I shouted gleefully as I hurried out the front doors of Forks High with the rest of the senior class. We were all in high spirits – finals were over, leaving us an entirely school-free day before our graduation ceremony.

Upon reaching the lawn, Claire performed a quick celebratory cartwheel on the damp grass. "Can you believe we'll never have to sit through another high school test for the rest of our lives? How cool is that?"

"Very cool," I agreed. "I almost feel like I could dance, except if I did I'd fall and end up with a fractured tailbone. Might make walking up to get my diploma uncomfortable."

Claire giggled. "Walking would be easy; sitting through the speeches is what'd be hard."

I checked my watch. "We'd better get going, or we'll be late meeting Renée." Phil's leg had improved enough to allow her to come to my graduation, and Claire and I were meeting her for dinner at her hotel in Port Angeles.

During the drive, Claire and I passed the time by comparing notes on our finals. "Well, I think I actually understood the calculus test," I said, "which probably means I flunked."

"The day you, Bella Swan, flunk anything is the day I'll die of a heart attack and _stay _dead. But if you're really worried, I bet you could get Peter to make Mr. Varner give you an A."

"I can't do that!"

"Oh, like Peter wouldn't telepathically control a math teacher if you asked him." Claire rolled her eyes. "Like there's _anything_ Peter wouldn't do for you."

I shrugged; having never asked Peter to do anything difficult or demanding for me, I could neither confirm nor deny that assertion. "Even if he was willing to do that, isn't there supposed to be some kind of rule against using your powers for personal gain?"

"Have you been reading Spider-Man? There is, but there's no rule against using them to help someone else. What I suggested would be helping you and doesn't involve Peter doing anything for himself, so no problem."

"Now _that _sounds like the logic of one of the megalomaniacal super-villains," I snorted. "Besides, I don't honestly think I need mental manipulation to pass calculus."

"Of course you don't – especially not with your lucky charm." Claire glanced pointedly at my upper torso.

Smiling, I hooked a finger under my collar, found the thin chain I was looking for, and pulled it out. This necklace never came off except when I was in bed or showering – the fact that it was the only tangible thing Peter had given me was reason enough to wear it all the time, aside from it being beautiful in its own right – yet he and Claire were the only ones who ever saw it. However horrible I felt hiding it beneath my shirt each day, that had to be done because its pendant, an elegantly scripted gold B superimposed on a deep crimson rose made of stained glass, was a very obviously romantic gift. Hardly something I could be seen wearing unless I wanted every gossipy person in Forks trying to figure out who I'd gotten it from.

"It's not a lucky charm per se," I said as I twirled the chain between my fingers, admiring the way the faint sunlight shone through the glass and lit up the letter. "It's just a necklace. Peter didn't give it to me for luck."

"Yeah, he's not the type; he might believe in stuff like destiny, but not luck. I just wonder, why'd you take it? You generally don't like people spending money on stuff for you, and that thing may not be priceless but it's not cheap either."

"I don't know - I guess just because it was the only time he's done anything like that, and because it's my kind of accessory: not priceless, like you said, or flashy, but still really pretty."

"You're right, that's totally you."

"The not flashy part is." Claire scoffed. "Seriously," I told her, "I'm nowhere near as pretty as you. Which reminds me, while we're on the subject of boyfriends, how come I have one and you don't? That must be in violation of the laws of nature."

She shrugged. "There just never seemed to be much point to dating anyone in Forks – when we first came here, Peter and I didn't think we'd be staying long."

"Where else would you have gone?"

"No idea; it's just that when you move because you're running away everything feels temporary. At first we pretty much expected Peter's dad to catch up with us any moment, so it was safer to keep our distance from everyone."

"You made an exception for me, though," I pointed out.

"We had to – you were one of us and there wasn't anyone else who could've taught you how to use your ability, plus we just liked you. And because you can block anyone who tries to use their powers on you, we thought you'd be safe if anyone came after us. Guess we shouldn't have worried about that."

"Yeah, no one seems to have found you in Forks. Or maybe Peter's father decided not to chase you after all."

"Maybe," Claire dubiously agreed. "Petrellis don't give up easily."

Attempting to lighten the suddenly gloom-tinged atmosphere I said, "Well, you and Peter got dragged in when those vampires came after me, so we'd just be breaking even if I had to help you deal with someone dangerous."

Claire scowled. "Be careful what you wish for," she said sharply. "What's the name of your mom's hotel again?"

"Um… Harbor View, I think." I glanced out the window for the first time, disoriented as I realized we'd arrived in Port Angeles without me noticing.

Quickly, I dropped my necklace under my shirt once more – a gesture that didn't escape Claire. "So I take it you're not telling Renée about you and Peter?"

"Don't plan to, no; I _would_ like to live long enough to actually graduate, Claire. But I'll tell her if you don't mind giving up some blood to fix whatever she does to me."

"Then you don't think she'd take it well? That seems unfair since you said your stepfather isn't the same age as Renée either."

I sighed. "I know, and it sucks, but Renée _is _the parent here. And Charlie _is _a cop, with a gun and everything."

Claire laughed. "Good thing Peter can't die then."

"That is a good thing," I agreed, completely serious. "C'mon; if we don't get in there soon, Renée'll come out to look for us and that'd blow our cover."

That brought on a fresh wave of laughter from the blonde, but I towed her inside nonetheless. "Hi," I greeted the hostess, "my friend and I are meeting my mother, if she's already here…?"

"Of course, right this way."

We followed the woman to a table for three at the outer edge of the main dining floor where Renée was already seated, though she jumped up to hug me the instant I was within reach. "Bella! Oh, sweetheart, I can't believe it's been so long since I've seen you! You look great – is your hair longer?"

"Maybe, a little," I replied awkwardly. I suspected Renée's comment had less to do with my hair than with how the last times we'd been together were after James's attack had left me hospitalized in Phoenix and the week after Edward's departure, when Charlie had called Renée to come take me to Florida and I'd been catatonic. _Not exactly the best memories to leave my mother with, _I thought guiltily.

Luckily, Claire sensed my unease and stepped in to diffuse the tension. "Hi, Mrs. Dwyer, I'm Claire Bennet, Bella's friend," she introduced herself, offering her hand for Renée to shake.

Renée ignored it and pulled Claire into a hug instead. "I can't believe I'm finally meeting the famous Claire Bennet; Bella's told me so much about you, it almost feels like I already know you."

"Same here, Mrs. Dwyer," Claire told her.

"Call me Renée, please; 'Mrs. Dwyer' just makes me feel old."

Claire assured her that 'old' was the last word she'd pick to describe Renée, and before I knew it the two of them were engaged in a lively conversation, the topic of which ranged from how soon Phil could get his cast off to Claire's adoptive mother's show dog breeding business.

"Is that why the Bennets aren't here for your graduation?" Renée asked.

I tensed, knowing full well that the reason none of them came to Forks was that none of them _knew _Claire was in Forks – as she'd mentioned the night she returned from Costa Verde, Noah was aware that she and Peter were in Washington, somewhere in or around the Seattle area, but they'd kept the specifics of their current location to themselves – with good reason, as Noah Bennet appeared to have some sort of association with Angela Petrelli, who apparently was trusted by neither her youngest son nor her granddaughter.

After learning what Peter and Claire's parents had put them through, I found myself seeing Renée in a new light. She might be erratic, harebrained, unreliable, but at least those were the worst of her faults. Maybe she wouldn't understand if I tried to tell her what I could do, maybe she'd be scared, but she would never try to use me for any destructive purpose. Having heard my friends' horror stories of their parents, I was only just beginning to appreciate how truly lucky I was.

"Bella, are you listening to me?" Renée tapped my arm.

"Huh? Oh…sorry, I kinda spaced out for a minute. What did you say?"

"I asked if you've got anything to wear for graduation."

"Oh…um…whatever I can find that goes with my khaki skirt, I guess."

"Honey, you can't wear _that_! It's your high school graduation, the day you've been waiting for since kindergarten! You need something new, a dress, maybe…" Renée clapped her hands together. "I know! You girls have tomorrow off, so the three of us can go shopping in Seattle! How does that sound to you, Claire?"

"Great! I don't need to shop for myself, but I can help find something for Bella."

I did not particularly want a dress, but if that was what it took to please my mother… "That'll be great, Mom."

###

Claire, who had assumed the role of designated driver since her car got the best gas mileage, picked me up right after breakfast; then we went through Port Angeles to get Renée and on to Seattle, reaching city limits by lunchtime. After lunch we hit the clothing stores, where Renée and Claire bullied me into trying on and then buying a lace-trimmed black silk dress, which in my opinion looked more like a slip than an actual dress.

"I don't see what you're complaining about, Bella," Claire told me as we followed Renée into the shoe department. "That dress looks great on you."

"_Are you crazy? _I can't wear this thing!" I angrily rattled the shopping bag. "The back's so low my bony shoulder blades seem to stick out a mile _and_ it's too tight! I might as well go naked! No, don't you dare laugh at me, Claire Bennet; _you _might be able to pull off something like this because cheerleading gave you pretty good muscles, but _I'm _going to look like a stick!"

"No, you're going to look hot," Claire said patiently. "Even Renée thought so – I'm kind of surprised she let you buy it."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, well, that's Renée for you. I swear, sometimes you could almost think I'm _her _mother instead of the other way around."

True to form, Renee picked out a pair of strappy black shoes with six-inch heels for me, completely forgetting that a) I had no hope of keeping my balance in them and b) they were totally inappropriate for an eighteen-year-old, unless the eighteen-year-old in question was trying to pass for a twenty-four-year-old. Which of course I wasn't.

I flatly refused to embarrass myself by even trying to stand up in those ridiculous shoes and instead purchased a pair of ballet flats. Metallic gold wasn't my favorite color, but they didn't come in black and at least I could walk in them.

As we made our way back to Claire's car she suddenly said, "Hey, Renée, weren't you saying last night that you wanted to meet Peter? He gets off work in about fifteen minutes."

So we deposited our spoils in the trunk and set off on foot again, eventually catching sight of Peter on the other side of the street, going in the opposite direction. Claire whistled loudly and, when he looked up, waved her hands over her head as if guiding an airplane to a runway.

He jaywalked across the street, picking up his pace at the last minute to avoid getting run over by a speeding blue sedan whose driver leaned out the window to flip Peter off. He made to return the gesture but I, feeling that that wouldn't make the best first impression on my mother, dissuaded him from that course of action with a hard punch to his shoulder.

"Ow! What was that for?"

I smacked him a second time. "Peter Petrelli, did no one ever teach you to look both ways before you cross the street? You could've been mowed down right in front of us!"

"Well it's not like that would-"

Deciding that was a sentence better left unfinished, I reached out and tugged Renée in front of him. "Mom, this is Claire's uncle and my good friend, Peter Petrelli; Peter, meet my mother, Renée Dwyer."

Peter's eyebrows rose slightly at me calling him my 'good friend' but he let it slide. Though he never had been thrilled about going behind my parents' backs, he agreed that what to tell them, and when, was my decision to make, not his. So he kept up the act; we kept our distance from each other. I wondered if being so close together and having to hold back was as hard for him as it was for me.

###

Graduation day dawned cloudy and gray but mercifully not chilly, so maybe I wouldn't freeze in my stupid dress. It wouldn't conceal my necklace the way my usual t-shirts would, so I regretfully put the necklace in my purse; I didn't want to leave the house without it even if I couldn't wear it.

I gobbled down whatever Charlie put in front of me without tasting a single bite. "Is it time to go yet?"

Charlie lazily checked his watch. "Yeah, I guess we can head on down." He ambled into the living room to turn off the TV while I danced impatiently on the balls of my feet. "Settle down, honey, we'll get there in plenty of time."

Little did Charlie know that I wasn't worried about being on time for the ceremony – I only wanted to get there so I could see Peter although my chances of shaking off my parents and stealing a minute alone with him were slim to none.

Sure enough, Charlie and Renee spent every second hovering; Claire all but had to elbow them out of the way to get to me. "There you are! I was starting to think we'd never find you," she said, raising her voice to make herself heard over the babble of students, parents, and teachers trying to get everyone into line.

I wasn't paying attention. "Wow…you look…" Claire had always been pretty but now, in her strapless midnight-blue dress and elaborately curled hair, 'pretty' didn't begin to describe her. I sighed, suddenly feeling scrawny and washed out next to her – _why _had I worn black? Against my pallid complexion, it probably looked funereal, made me seem corpselike.

Peter joined us, carrying Claire's robe and cap, his eyes widening when they landed on me. I flushed and shimmied into my yellow robe as fast as possible. It might be hideous, but it was the same kind of hideous as everyone else's – it would help me blend in, disappear in the crowd.

Once the robe was on I strode off to join my classmates, cramming my cap onto my head and adjusting the tassel as I went. I didn't glance Peter's way, nor did I need to to sense his surprise as I brushed past him without a word. Claire followed me, but before she could say anything Mrs. Cope was steering her to the front of the line to stand with the rest of the B's while Mr. Banner herded me to the back, behind Jessica Stanley.

"Bella!" All the air was squeezed from my lungs as Jessica threw herself onto me. For a moment I wondered why Peter did nothing to stop this unexpected attempt at suffocating me; then I realized it was merely a hug, albeit an uncomfortably tight one. "I can't believe we're graduating! It seems like only yesterday you were new here and we were friends, like, right away, and next fall I'll be all the way in California…" The words gushed out of her like a geyser erupting while I gasped for breath.

"Yeah," I panted, "it's been a good two years, Jess."

"It really has," she said with a sniffle, wiping her eyes on her robe. "You have to promise me we won't lose touch."

Before I could answer, the band began playing and Jessica turned around to march. I fell into step behind her, concentrating most of my mental power on not tripping without watching my feet. At last we reached our seats and settled into place for the speeches. Eric, the valedictorian, speed-talked in his nervousness, running words and phrases together, but I did catch something about 'commencement' meaning 'beginning' and how although we were all leaving something behind us today, it was also the beginning of a new chapter in our lives – after today, nothing would be the same.

Cold fingers crawled up my spine at those words. Already nothing was the same for me; in the two years I'd lived in Forks, I'd experienced more changes than most people went through in their entire lifetime, some wonderful, some awful, some terrifying. What kind of changes would come after today, I found myself wondering. What would my life be like tomorrow?

Jolted from my thoughts by Jess yanking on my arm, I snapped back into the present just in time to stand up as Principal Greene took the podium and began calling students up to receive their diplomas.

"Isabella Marie Swan!" he called at last; I walked toward the stage so fast I was almost jogging, as Mrs. Cope fumbled with my diploma and nearly dropped it. In the end, she shoved it into Mr. Greene's left hand just as his right hand grasped mine. "Congratulations, Miss Swan," he mumbled.

"Thank you, sir." I faced the crowd as I moved my tassel, my eyes seeking out Renée, who was jumping up and down and cheering like an over-exuberant child, and Charlie, whose face stretched into a huge grin as he hugged the person nearest him (which happened to be Peter), nearly knocking the younger man off his feet.

Everything after that seemed to move in fast forward mode: I joined my classmates, someone yelled something unintelligible, and then we were all throwing our caps in the air and screaming. They rained down on us and I bent to pick up mine, only for it to blow away. I chased it to the stage's steps and crashed into Peter.

"Looking for this?" He held out my cap.

"Yeah, thanks. Weren't you up in the bleachers a minute ago?"

"Uh-huh, and…?"

I frowned, worried. "Are you sure it's a good idea to do whatever you did to get down here so fast in the middle of all these people?"

"All these people who aren't paying attention to me at all? Yeah, it's perfectly safe – safer than standing there letting your dad hug me again, anyway."

"Um, sorry about that; Charlie just…got carried away."

"Oh no, here he comes again," Peter muttered, and quickly maneuvered so that I was between him and Charlie. I tried to glare at him, but couldn't move as Charlie's bear hug enveloped me.

He only desisted when Renée pulled me away to tell me how proud she was and kiss me goodbye; she was leaving to catch her late-night flight back to Jacksonville. "Bye, Mom, I'm so glad you made it."

"Me too, sweetheart. You take care of yourself, all right?" She kissed the top of my head one more time, then left for her car.

Once she was gone Charlie asked, "So where do you want to go out to eat? The sky's the limit!"

"Dad, I don't mind cooking."

"Nonsense; we're going out, and that's that. How about the Lodge?"

In my opinion, the Lodge was overpriced and tacky, but it was the closest thing Forks had to a formal restaurant; I agreed, more enthusiastically when Peter and Claire accepted Charlie's invitation to join us.

###

The Lodge was packed with new graduates and their families, meaning Charlie took twice as long finishing his steak because he kept turning around to talk with Tyler Crowley's parents in the booth next to ours. He still had a half-full plate by the time I finished my burger, so my attention wandered – over to Peter, naturally.

Our eyes met, then he said something to Claire, she nodded, and he got up and headed for the exit, tossing a glance my way that said he wanted me to meet him outside. I waited until he was out of sight before muttering something about needing some air and slipping away from Charlie, who barely acknowledged my leaving.

My eyes adjusted quickly to the change in lighting, but I didn't see Peter anywhere. I wove through the rows of cars, feeling foolish as I hissed, "Peter, where are you?" to the empty air.

"Right here."

Positive there was no one behind me, I gasped and whirled just as he appeared out of nowhere. "Peter! Holy crow, you almost gave me a heart attack!"

He came closer, forcing me to back up till I bumped against Charlie's cruiser. His fingers ran up my arm, slid under my dress's spaghetti strap and down my bare back; I trembled, but not because I was cold. "You're beautiful, you know that?"

Breathless, I slowly shook my head from side to side. "What've you been drinking?"

"Today? Coffee, orange juice, ice water-"

"Very funny." I stroked my thumb over his lips. "I've missed you – these past couple days, you've been around but it's felt like you were on the other side of the planet."

"I know, I missed you too." He lifted me onto the cruiser's hood and moved in for a kiss – my knees parted and my legs wrapped around him, drawing him closer – as we kissed I gripped the back of his neck with one hand, caressed his face with the other, leaned back on the windshield and pulled him down, practically on top of me, completely forgetting that the parking lot outside a crowded restaurant wasn't the best place for this. Right now I couldn't see, hear, feel, or care about anything besides Peter Petrelli – I loved him so much, he was my whole world, my universe…

…Which was why I didn't comprehend what was happening when he was abruptly torn away from me; one second we were alone in our own little world, the next he was gone. Someone was roughly pulling me off the cruiser, shouting words I couldn't understand – a hand caught me under the chin, forcing me to look up – into the beet-red face of my father!

**So now you know Charlie and Bella are gonna have a little talk in the next chap! And, if it won't make it indecently long, I might also move into the last really dramatic section of this story – life-threateningly dangerous drama, that is, not 'Charlie catches Bella kissing Peter' drama. **


	28. The Interlopers

**Why I haven't updated in so long (which I'm mentioning in the hope that you'll be more inclined to not kill me if I can provide a good reason): I got distracted playing nurse to a horse with hoof problems who won't eat his supplements unless they're mixed up with apple wafers and syrup, and refused to finish his evening feed until I hand-fed it to him. Turns out nursing isn't as cool as it looked when Peter did it.**

Chapter 28: The Interlopers

"Bella, are you all right? What'd he do to you?" Charlie yelled. "Talk to me, Bella!"

He shook my shoulders, but all I could do was gape stupidly up at him, my mouth falling open. It sounded as if Charlie thought Peter had hurt me somehow, and the suggestion floored me because it was like gravity pulling up or fish swimming through the air – a breach of the laws of physics that could never happen.

"I haven't done anything to her!" Peter snapped.

Charlie rounded on him. "The hell you haven't!" he bellowed. "You had her _pinned to the car!_ I trusted you with her!" His hand clenched into a fist.

I jumped in front of Peter and grabbed Charlie's wrist, catching his arm mid-swing. "_No! _Dad, stop it!" Charlie did stop, but more out of surprise than anything else; he looked at me as if I'd dumped a load of bricks on his head. I gulped, realizing the moment for truth had come. "Dad… Peter wasn't doing anything I didn't want him to."

The silence that followed was so deep I could have heard a pin drop. Charlie actually staggered back a step, staring from me to Peter like he'd never seen us before. "You…and him?" His voice was a strangled whisper.

"I'm sorry, Chief," Peter said, sounding subdued. "This isn't how I wanted you to find out."

Charlie's face began reddening and I, guessing he would regain the power of speech soon, turned to Peter and spoke quickly. "I'm so, so sorry. You tried to tell me keeping this from him was a bad idea but I wouldn't listen… I'm so sorry, Peter!"

"Shh, it's okay. You _are _too damn stubborn, but that's just part of what I love about you." He touched my cheek, and his fingertips came away wet; it was only then that I noticed I was crying.

"That's enough! Get your hands off her!" Charlie shouted, pulling me away. "Get in the car, _now!_" He shoved me inside with one hand on top of my head, like I was under arrest, and slammed the door behind me.

"You and me are gonna have a long talk tomorrow," he barked at Peter, "after I deal with my daughter." Then he marched around to the driver's side, banged the door loudly as he got in, and drove out of the parking lot much faster than usual.

I cowered as far from Charlie as I could get inside the cruiser's confines, making myself as small as possible and hoping my father's vision was based on movement.

"You're grounded, effective the minute you step out of this vehicle. I want you to go straight to your room and don't come out until I say so, understand?"

"Okay," I squeaked in a tiny voice. A phrase from a Monopoly card – 'go directly to jail; do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars' – ran through my mind although I hadn't played Monopoly in over a year.

"Well?" Charlie demanded.

I blinked, realizing he must have asked a question that I'd missed. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

Charlie's nostrils flared. "I _said, _what in blazes do you think you're doing with Peter Petrelli? He's way too old for you-"

"That's _your_ opinion," I muttered sulkily.

It was the wrong thing to say. "Yeah? Well unfortunately for you, Isabella Marie Swan, I'm your father and right now my _opinion_ is that you won't see the outside of the house till you're in your thirties! He had better stay the hell away from you!"

"You can't do that! You may be my father, but I happen to be an adult – meaning I can date whoever I want to! I'm in love with Peter and there's nothing you can do about it!"

Charlie did a slight double take when I told him I was in love, yet recovered quickly. "And you think he loves you too, do you?" he asked with what I considered overuse of sarcasm.

"I know he does!"

It was too dark to be certain, but Charlie's face appeared purple; I definitely saw a vein throbbing at his temple. His hands twitched on the wheel, then relaxed as he took a deep breath and tried a different tack. "How can you know that?"

I attempted to match his even, rational tone. "Because there's no logical reason for him to pretend to love me if he really doesn't and _if _he was pretending, which he's not, I think I would have noticed by now."

Charlie seized on my last words. "By now?" he repeated. "Just how long has this gone on?"

_Oh _crap_! You just had to dig yourself in deeper, didn't you? Peter _told_ you this would happen but did you listen to him? Oh no, you had to have your own way – dumb, Bella, dumb! _Well, I'd made my bed; now it was time for me to lie in it.

"Umm…" When exactly _had _Peter and I become more than friends anyway? So much had happened both before and after that my sense of time was distorted; sometimes it was hard to believe we hadn't known each other all our lives. _Now that's ridiculous. I wasn't even alive for the first ten years of his life! _

"Well," I began slowly, while racking my brain, "It's not like I've been counting… Since the end of February, maybe?"

"That long?" Charlie inhaled sharply. "You hid this from me for _three months?_"

"From everyone. Peter wasn't happy about that, but I made him do it because…I knew what people would say and I didn't think I could handle them all talking about me while I still had to go to school," I admitted.

Charlie _hmph_ed, reluctantly conceding that particular point, then fell silent. Just when I thought I might be off the hook for the night he blurted out, "Are you sleeping with him?"

A hot, prickly wave of embarrassment crashed over me. "Aw Dad…" I groaned. "_Please _don't tell me I'm about to get 'the talk'! Mom already gave it to me eight years ago."

"Eight years ago you weren't dating someone old enough to…well…expect certain things-"

"Dad!" Now it was anger making me hot under the collar. "You know Peter better than that! He would never try pushing me into anything I wasn't ready for!"

"Oh I'm sure he wouldn't push you, but at your age there're all kinds of… Teenage hormones can make even smart people act crazy, and pushing may not be necessary. Believe me, if there was any way we could skip this conversation…but I am your father, I have responsibilities, and I have to know. Now, can we get this over with or do I have to repeat the question?" he asked gruffly.

"No! I mean, please don't; that's one question I'd rather you never ask me again. And the answer is…" I sucked in a nervous breath and took the plunge. "I did once."

Despite having braced himself for the worst, hearing me say it out loud caused Charlie to jerk the steering wheel so hard we nearly swerved off the road. The cruiser floundered momentarily before he pulled it straight, cursing under his breath.

Once it was clear that we weren't going to crash he picked up where he'd left off. "Just tell me you were being safe," he pleaded.

"We were," I assured him. "It was back during spring break anyway, and I've been fine since then."

"And that was the only time you…?"

"_Yes,_" I said emphatically.

Charlie heaved a sigh of relief. "Well, that's something. But you're still grounded."

###

True to his word, Charlie sent me to my room the moment my feet hit the driveway; I couldn't even use making dinner as an excuse to suspend my sentence since we'd already eaten. I was allowed out to brush my teeth, but Charlie stood outside the bathroom to make sure I didn't take an unduly long time. When I emerged, he simply jerked his thumb at my room, shut the door as soon as I trudged inside, and told me in a tone that would make a prison guard proud that he wanted my light out in ten minutes.

I obediently switched it off but didn't get in bed; instead I tiptoed to the closet. Digging through it as quietly as possible, I located my purse and took out my necklace. As a rule I never wore it to bed – it would be just my luck if the chain twisted around my neck as I slept and strangled me – but I thought tonight should be an exception. I felt Charlie's disapproval like a lead weight pressing down on me in the dark, and if his mood didn't improve I might have a long, lonely summer ahead.

There was no telling whether he would or could make good on his threat to keep me in the house and away from Peter all summer, at least not yet. I hoped some fraction of his anger would wear off by morning but if it didn't… If I was really in for three months alone with an irate Charlie, with no reprieve outside of Saturday shifts at Newton's…

Faced with this uninviting prospect, I took longer than usual to drift off and slept fitfully when I did.

###

I stayed in bed until almost lunchtime just to avoid Charlie and pass the time, only getting up when my stomach's rumbling told me dejection wasn't the sole reason I felt empty inside. After dragging myself into a sitting position I took another minute to seriously consider whether it was worth leaving my room for food.

On the one hand, Charlie had expressly forbidden me to come out before he said I could; on the other, he hadn't meant for me to sit up here and starve. Maybe he'd forgotten all about saying that. I stood still, listening hard and, upon hearing nothing to indicate that there was anyone in the house besides me, decided it was safe to venture forth.

Charlie _was _gone, but to my surprise he'd left a note – an abnormally long one. I picked it up and read:

_Bella-_

_I've done a lot of thinking about last night and I see that you have a point. You're over eighteen now so even if I don't agree with what you're doing, and I __don't__, you weren't all the way wrong when you said there's not much I can do about it, and when you said I was being a little hard on Peter. He really is a pretty decent guy._

_So, I'm meeting him for lunch, and to hear his side of things. Still can't say I'm happy about whatever it is between you two but I'm trying to be fair here. Don't know when I'll be back. This might take a while. Love you._

_-Dad_

"Love you too, Dad," I whispered past a lump that wasn't in my throat a moment ago. Charlie had put all this in a note because it was the kind of stuff he'd be embarrassed telling me face to face as well as to let me know where he was; I folded it and slipped it into my pocket instead of trashing it as I would have done if it'd simply said 'gone out to lunch'.

###

Feeling an upsurge of affection for my father, I decided to do some housecleaning after I ate. I was halfway done with the living room when the sound of a car outside made me pause. No more than an hour, if that, had passed since I'd gotten up; surely Charlie couldn't be back already. I turned the vacuum off so I could hear better, cocking my head toward the front door.

The car I'd heard was now silent, replaced by a pair of low male voices. _Charlie brought Peter with him? Does that mean I'm in less trouble, or we're both in _more_ trouble?_ I peeked around the corner just in time to see the door explode in a burst of blue fire.

Instinct propelled me out of the living room and up the stairs before the smoke cleared while my conscious mind scrambled to catch up. Pyrokinesis was one of Peter's abilities, I knew, and the flames he produced were always that odd shade of blue, but how likely was he to blast my door off? _Duh, not likely at all, especially in front of Charlie. Someone else then, but who, and why? _What reason existed for a firestarter to break into my house?

None that I knew of; it wasn't important. Getting out alive was all that mattered now. I slammed and locked the door of my room behind me, not knowing why I bothered – it wasn't as if a lock would stop someone who could take the whole door off its hinges.

_So block him, idiot! Then unshield your mind and call Peter! _I did the first but not the second; Peter might still be with Charlie, and I couldn't risk him teleporting to me if there was any chance Charlie might see. I didn't need him anyway, having already rendered the firestarter's power useless. _There's nothing he can do now…_

I put my ear to the crack under the door, listening as the two men moved through the downstairs rooms. "Damn! She ain't here!" The voice held a drawl so pronounced it even came through as the man yelled.

"Yeah she is," came a calmer second voice, this one drawl-less.

"How you know that? You ain't no mind reader."

The second man sounded impatient when he answered. "I know she's here 'cause we'd have seen if she left! That's why we sat in a car all night and all morning watchin' the house, waitin' for the cop to leave her alone."

"So why didn't we nab 'er soon as he left then?"

"Because bustin' in was gonna make noise any way we did it; we had to wait for the lady down the street to go out in case she coulda heard anything through these trees. The boss wants this done quiet, remember? Let's check upstairs."

_Crap! _My room offered only two options for hiding places: in the closet or under the bed. I chose the bed since it was closer, hoping as I slithered under the dust ruffle that Claire never found out. Bad enough that I was retreating from a man who _couldn't even use his power on me_ where she would probably have tasered him, but actually hiding under the bed like this was a game of hide-and-seek… _She'll give me a break; it's not like I _have _a taser or anything. _

Now I wished I did, something I'd never wished before. I wished I'd picked up Charlie's gun while I was in the kitchen although I had no idea how to fire it. I wished I had Peter's abilities so I could shoot fire or lightning at these men, freeze time and run, fly out the window – anything other than lie here helpless, feeling my heart thundering in my chest and the floor vibrating beneath my palms as heavy footsteps tramped down the hall, their owners checking each door as they went.

At long last, just as I was sure my heart would burst or simply give out, they reached mine and tried the knob. "Locked," declared the second man. "Bingo."

"Want me-?"

"Nah, I got it."

There was a loud _bang _and the door swung open so forcefully it bounced off the wall. _He's shot the lock off! _Suddenly my so-called shield felt more useless than ever; it might protect me from the firestarter, but not a bullet. I shrank back as they entered, watching their feet.

One man looked inside my closet, while the other checked behind my rocking chair and under my desk. _Like I could hide under the desk with the chair there! How dumb can you get? _

The man who'd checked the closet seemed to share my sentiment. "Flint! Why you looking under the desk? No way could she get under it without movin' the chair! Which means…only one place left she could be…" He slowly crossed the room, his shoes moving closer until they poked through the dust ruffle; then it flew up and I found myself looking into a face darker than any of the pack's, both in skin tone and expression – none of the wolves had ever seemed so deadly. "Boo."

I jerked away from his hand, but he never reached for me. Instead he took hold of the bed frame and lifted, hurling my bed across the room literally singlehandedly. _Then _he grabbed me by the back of the neck and lifted me too, as effortlessly as if I were a paper doll. My body and mind both froze up, paralyzed by terror as my eyes met the man's and then flicked down to the gun in his other hand. Part of me realized I'd miscalculated when I merely blocked the firestarter without bothering to feel out his companion as well. That no longer mattered anyway – the sight of this one's gun had blown my concentration to smithereens, and I couldn't use my ability if I couldn't concentrate.

The man followed my gaze down to his gun, then raised it in front of my face. "Scary, isn't it? I know it scares _you_ – I can smell it all over you." He leaned closer, inhaling deeply. "Nothin' like it."

"Wh-Who are you?"

"Besides your worst nightmare? Call me Knox. He's Flint Gordon, and you're coming with us. Whether you come the easy way or the hard way's up to you, but if I was you I'd take the easy way."

I glanced involuntarily at Knox's gun, wondering if either way involved using it on me.

Knox gave a cold chuckle. "This isn't for you, don't worry. We do this the easy way, you walk out with us now, no fuss. The hard way just means we wait'll your boyfriend shows up again, in which case this-" he tapped his gun on my cheek "-is for him. One shot through the back of the head – no coming back from that. So what'll it be?"

I stared in disbelief, Knox's face blurring as my tears welled up. The 'choice' he offered me was no choice at all. "Do whatever you want with me, just don't hurt Peter. _Please._"

Flint snorted. "You're breakin' my heart here." Addressing Knox, he went on, "Boss said it don't matter about him long as we get the girl, right?"

"That's right. C'mon, I wanna get out of here before we have to deal with him again."

**Notes on characterization:**

**Charlie – I realize he wasn't quite so touchy-feely in the books, but took some creative license with him because I feel like he really does have Bella's best interests at heart and wanted her to see that. Blame my mom and dad – I'm sure it'd be easy for me to write parents as the perpetual bad guys if they weren't so great.**

**Knox – I just wasn't sure how to do him, not knowing much about him except that he used to be a gangbanger. If anyone would like to give me pointers, please do.**

**Flint – he really isn't the brightest bulb in the box, end of story.**


	29. Face of Evil

**For anyone who doesn't already know this from my profile page, I'm back in school now and don't have quite as much time for writing. Updates might be farther between now but I promise I WILL finish this story… maybe even this year… hey, quit rolling your eyes! It could happen!**

Chapter 29: Face of Evil 

As they led me to their car my captors discussed whether to tie me up; Flint was all for it but Knox shot him down, asserting that I was too afraid of them to try anything. I bit down on my tongue, fighting an urge to laugh because, really, was there anything I _could _try? All I could do was block their powers, and a fat lot of good that would do when they could shoot me! Or worse, Peter, something they repeatedly assured me they wouldn't hesitate to do if I so much as looked at them wrong.

It was obvious, then, that Peter and Claire wouldn't be coming to my rescue this time. I'd already endangered them once by hanging around while Victoria hunted me; I wouldn't let it happen again, wouldn't let either of them die for me. They'd try to help me in spite of the danger though, so I turned my attention to making sure that didn't happen; they couldn't get themselves killed saving me if they couldn't _find_ me.

Tuning out Knox and Flint's chatter, I retreated deep into myself and felt my shield around me, protecting my mind. I went to work on it, stretched it around my whole body and poured more energy into it; slowly, gradually, my shield toughened, thickened, and became an impenetrable cocoon – one that would keep Peter from clairvoyantly locating me or seeing my future. Now I was untraceable…and completely on my own.

Strengthening my shield had an unforeseen consequence, which I discovered when the car stopped and Flint came around to the back and opened my door. "C'mon, get out," he ordered me. I gazed dumbly up at him; his face was blurred, as if seen through a dirty window. "I said get out!" he barked. "You deaf or somethin'?"

I heard him of course, but the meaning of his words didn't register. I took a long moment realizing he wanted me to get out of the car, another to move my hand toward the button that would release my seat belt. Diverting extra energy to my shield must slow the electric impulses in my brain that interpreted information from my sensory organs and told my muscles to move. _Didn't know that'd happen; I'll have to work on it some more…_

Losing patience, Flint dragged me from the car by my arm, then slung me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Just like that night when Sam brought me home after I got lost in the woods trying to follow Edward, I knew being carried like this should upset me – more so this time since Flint's shoulder dug painfully into my stomach and my nose bumped on his back with every stride he took – but there was nothing in me to upset. As the shield wrapping my mind grew stronger, feeding itself by siphoning away whatever energy wasn't needed for pumping blood and such, my emotions and focus dulled.

Regret needled me because I knew Peter, Claire, and Charlie would hate me reverting to a quasi-catatonic zombie, but something else stabbed deeper: pain, because I didn't know when or even if I'd see them again. _Numb is better. _

Turning my head to spare my nose one more collision with Flint's back – it hurt, and the fact that he needed a shower made his proximity to my nostrils all the more unpleasant – I saw that he and Knox had left their car on the roadside, doors open, and were taking me across a grassy, treeless expanse of land. There were no buildings or other cars in sight.

Before I could muster anything more than a vague sense of puzzlement, Flint paused to set me on my feet and turned me toward the thing we'd crossed the field to reach: a helicopter. Knox entered first and told the pilot, "Fire it up." Then he reappeared in the open side hatch just in time to catch me as I stumbled, my foot tangled in the chopper's retractable steps. He pulled me up without giving me time to unhook it, spraining my ankle, and dropped me on the front-facing seat.

The pilot remained taciturn throughout takeoff and after reaching a steady altitude, making me wonder if he at least had some reservations about being an accessory to kidnap. Flint and Knox treated him with even more condescension than they did me, their captive, so it seemed likely that he wasn't one of us – _Ugh, I hate belonging in a group with these thugs even if it's only 'cause of a genetic quirk_ – they struck me as the type to think themselves superior to ordinary humans.

I kept to the seat's far left, firstly to put the maximum possible distance between myself and Knox, who I shared the seat with, and so I could look out the window, though I soon gave up paying real attention to the scenery. Up here there was nothing to see but gray clouds, and the ground was too far below for me to gather any sense of where we were heading from watching it. I guessed our destination must be a long way from Forks since we were taking a helicopter but had no idea of the exact distance, or more importantly what was waiting for me when we got there.

Closing my eyes and slumping against the chopper's cold metal side, I feigned sleep in order to discourage Flint from addressing any of his jabbering to me and began fine-tuning my shield. Numb might be better, but I suspected that I'd need to be on my toes wherever I was going.

###

Next thing I knew, Knox was shaking my shoulder and I didn't hear the chopper's blades _whirring _overhead anymore.

"Rise an' shine, Sleepin' Beauty," Flint chuckled over his partner's shoulder.

"Time to meet the boss," the fear-feeder added, smiling nastily at my look of apprehension. "Scared, little girl? You should be."

Deciding to deny him whatever gratification he might have derived from hearing my voice quiver, I limped toward the hatch in silence. I didn't need to waste attention on a retort anyway; negotiating the steps while keeping my weight on one leg was difficult.

"Pick up the pace already!" Flint prodded me between the shoulder blades, making me stagger forward and yelp as I caught myself by stepping down hard on my left foot.

"What's wrong with you?" Knox demanded.

I answered through gritted teeth. "You sprained my ankle pulling me up when my foot caught on the chopper's step…brute," I added in an undertone.

The brute in question didn't catch that muttered last word. "Damn, how d'you fit so much clumsiness in such a tiny body?" His hands slid under my armpits and one quick heave later, I found myself being carried potato sack-style _again_. I was almost tempted to stretch my good foot down to his groin and give him a nice hard kick.

Flint moved ahead to open a roof access door; we passed through it, went down a few stairs, through another door, and into the hallway of what seemed to be an office building. _What the heck…? _This wasn't your average corporate office though – Flint and Knox were definitely out of place what with the former wearing jeans and a Dallas Cowboys t-shirt that had both seen better days, the latter clad in all black, including a leather jacket, _and_ carrying a slightly battered teenage girl – yet none of the suit-garbed employees seemed to find anything disconcerting about our appearance in their midst.

A female voice said, "You took longer than expected; he's not happy."

"Situational difficulties," Knox said shortly. "We'll take her right to him."

Dread crept over me, displacing my numbness further. Here was another mention of the mysterious 'boss' whom Knox had said I should be afraid of meeting, and now it seemed I was about to. Whoever he was, if he had street thugs with superpowers in his employ I highly doubted he was a sterling citizen. Fear knotted my guts but didn't strengthen Knox; my supercharged shield held it in, kept it from feeding his power.

I never saw the woman since she walked down the hall ahead of Knox, her steps punctuated by the _tap _of stiletto heels on wood. We went down several yards of hallway and around three corners before the heels fell silent; then I heard a soft knock, a door opening, and the woman saying, "Pardon the interruption, but Knox and Flint have arrived with the girl."

"Send them in." The voice belonged to an older man and held the sort of authority that made it easy to picture anyone and everyone – even my kidnappers, who I imagined were more than a match for most people – taking orders from the speaker.

Everybody moved to obey the command as soon as it was given, and before I knew it I found myself in a large private office, being lifted off Knox's shoulder as he said, "Here she is, Mr. Petrelli."

_Mr. Petrelli? _Other than Peter, I knew of only two Mr. Petrellis: Nathan, the flying politician with dubious ethics, and Arthur, the power-sponge who stole abilities instead of merely copying them and had no compunctions about killing anyone who got in his way, even if they happened to be his own children. Neither was anyone I particularly wanted to meet and now…now I wasn't sure who I wanted to see when I turned around. _Which one's the lesser of two evils? _

Knox spun me around to face Mr. Petrelli, a man with neatly trimmed gray hair and a lined face. _He's too old to be Peter's brother – it's Arthur then. _I gulped. Arthur Petrelli's expression changed rapidly as he surveyed me; first his eyes widened and his mouth opened soundlessly as if in surprise, then closed into a thin line. He scowled, cold anger etched in every line of his face; my knees shook, and not just because my ankle hurt.

"Who," asked Arthur Petrelli in a seething tone, "is _she_? My orders were clear: capture Claire Bennet and bring her to me, without involving my son if possible. I don't know who this girl is, but she certainly is _not _Claire Bennet!"

"You sure? She could've dyed her hair brown," Flint suggested.

"Even as a brunette Claire wouldn't look a thing like this girl. I hope for your sakes there's a better reason behind this gross error."

"Yeah, there is," said Knox with the air of someone trying desperately to escape punishment. Arthur folded his arms, waiting. "You said she'd be with your boy, and that's where we found this one – _with_ him, if you know what I mean."

"What do you mean by 'with Peter'?"

"Means we saw 'em makin' out on the hood of a police car. I wouldn't have minded bein' in his shoes right then, she was so hot in that li'l black dress…" Flint punctuated the word 'hot' by lighting up a fingertip, oblivious to the way Arthur's mouth tightened with every word out of his.

Finally he cut the firestarter off midsentence. "That's enough!" All three of them, including the stiletto-shod woman who'd led us here, stared at him. He calmed himself with some effort. "Just…step outside for a moment, please. You too, Ms. Strauss – I'd like to speak with her in private."

They all made a beeline for the door, leaving me alone with Arthur Petrelli. I glanced toward his office's large windows and wondered if he might throw me through one of them.

Instead he steered me to an oak chair in front of his desk, squeezing my bicep till it hurt. "Sit." Propelled by his slight push, I fell more than sat; Arthur stood over me, arms folded once more, scowl firmly in place. "Tell me your name."

"Bella- Isabella Swan," I squeaked; this imposing man seemed to require my full name.

"Isabella Swan," Arthur repeated. "Well, Isabella Swan, what's this business with you, my son… and the hood of a police car?"

Naturally, I went red. "It was nothing… We just went out to dinner… We were celebrating graduation…"

"Graduation – in Forks, Washington?" Arthur placed his hands on the armrests of my chair and leaned down until we were nearly nose to nose. "I don't know who you think you're dealing with but let me assure you, Miss Swan, I will not be lied to! Now, I know perfectly well that there is no university in Forks-"

"Not college," I mumbled, "high school."

Arthur Petrelli reared back as if I'd punched him in the face. "High school!" he exclaimed. "Miss Swan, are you telling me that as of yesterday you just graduated _high school_?"

"Y-yes?"

"Just out of high school… At least it was only one night – doesn't mean anything." It sounded like Arthur was reassuring himself.

In spite of my fear, I bristled at the intimation that a single night was the longest I'd be able to hold Peter's interest; I could imagine how I was supposed to accomplish that. "That's true," I said acidly. "One night doesn't mean anything, but Peter's been my boyfriend for the last three months. Sorry to disappoint you." His thunderstruck expression satisfied me immensely.

"Good Lord, I disapproved when he became a nurse but at least then he wasn't seeing a _teenager_!" He gave my chair's armrest a furious thump. "Well, this atrocious liaison you're having with my son ends now, Miss Swan."

It was basically the same thing Charlie said last night in fancier language, so I reiterated what I'd told him in kind. "That's Peter's decision to make, or mine – _not_ yours, Mr. Petrelli."

The look Arthur gave me then was ferocious enough to scare a vampire silly. "We'll see about that," he snarled. "I'd say your relationship is ended if you never see Peter again, which I promise you will not." His hand swiped my throat – I cringed, expecting to be throttled – he seized my necklace and broke its delicate chain with a sharp tug.

"Hey! Give that back!"

"You won't be needing it any time soon." He thoughtfully inspected the pendant, swinging it back and forth on its broken chain. "Peter will thank me for this – maybe not right now, but someday he'll realize how much better off he is without you."

Arthur's words cut me, made me want to hurt him back. "No, he won't. He's gonna hate you for this. Or I should say he'll hate you _more_. Your son already thinks you're a real scumbag and you know what? I think he's right."

A crushing force knocked me to the floor; popping white lights filled my mind, or eyes, or both. My cheek stung and I figured out that Arthur had hit me. For some reason I vividly recalled when I first saw the Cullens' mansion, when Edward wanted me to meet his family but was worried about them hurting me because they were vampires…

Now my perfectly human boyfriend's perfectly human father had struck me with enough force to land me flat on my backside! The situation seemed so absurd that I was suddenly biting back a giggle even as the pain brought tears to my eyes. Never having been hit before, I didn't know how to react.

Arthur called his employees back in, and Ms. Strauss helped me up while Arthur addressed Knox and Flint. "As soon as the chopper's ready to fly again you two are going back to Forks, where you will catch the _right_ girl this time-"

Someone started laughing quietly, hysterically. The three men stared at me and Ms. Strauss gave me a gentle shake; it was only then that I realized the hysterical laughter was coming out of my mouth.

"What's so amusing, Miss Swan?" Arthur asked, eyes glinting dangerously.

I ignored the danger; he probably had something terrible planned for me already. "You sending those two back to Forks is funny. They trashed my house coming after me – Peter and Claire won't have stuck around after seeing the mess they left. They'll be long gone before anyone can get to Forks. Maybe I'll never see them again, but neither will you."

Arthur's jaw clenched. "If that's true, then I suppose there's no need to keep you as a bargaining chip; nevertheless, we may as well get some use out of you. Ms. Strauss, please show Miss Swan to our science department."

Ms. Strauss looked horrified. "But sir, all five test cases have been unsuccessful-"

"Perhaps we'll have more luck with number six."

"There isn't going to be a number six – Dr. Suresh said he won't do any more human testing until he finds a way to counteract the side effects."

"I can see I need to speak with the good doctor. Very well… Knox, take Miss Swan down to sublevel three until we're ready for her in the lab."

"Sure thing. You got a particular cell you want her in or will any empty one work?"

"No, not an empty one – number three-oh-four. I think Miss Bishop could use the company."

**I'm really excited about Bella meeting other Petrellis – somehow it seems really ironic that they're human but more dangerous than Edward's vampire coven, doesn't it? **

**Also, this chapter brought in Tracy Strauss, and the next one will have Elle and Mohinder so I want to ask: do you think those three should be good or bad in this story? I already have my own ideas for them, but I'd like to hear yours. Arthur of course is indisputably bad.**


	30. A Shocking Situation

**Okay, I lied; there's no Mohinder in this chapter after all. Even more of a bummer is that there's no Peter either, though Bella does think about him a bit. There is, however, lots of Elle, which is the main reason writing this took so long. Picturing Elle and Bella as cellmates was challenging to say the least, took a whole slew of rewrites, and I'm still not sure I haven't butchered Elle's characterization. She's a hard one to nail down, for me at least.**

Chapter 30: A Shocking Situation

"Here we are," Knox announced.

I ground my teeth; I'd never had much patience with people stating the obvious. "That's a relief; I was afraid the elevator was malfunctioning."

Knox grabbed my sore arm exactly where Arthur had, but I swallowed any sound I might have made – I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "You want me to smack that smart mouth, little girl?"

"Of course not."

"Then keep it shut." In reply I mimed zipping my lips; he snorted and steered me out of the elevator more forcefully than necessary. My sense of foreboding mounted as I took in sublevel three.

It resembled a prison, except that the hall was lined with solid steel doors instead of barred ones. The only light came from a strip of flickering fluorescents down the middle of the ceiling; their fixtures were dingy, contained lots of dead bugs, and it looked as though the bulbs might sputter out for good at any minute. Panic constricted my throat as I contemplated being locked up here – the claustrophobic surroundings coupled with the knowledge that it was underground would make it feel like getting buried alive!

Knox pulled on a thick pair of rubber gloves before unlocking cell 304's door. He thrust me inside ahead of him and all I noticed at first was that this room must be used for some twisted kind of shock treatment, because electricity was everywhere – the steel walls, floor, and ceiling provided excellent conduction. Bright forks of lightning flowed through the room, lending it a psychedelic aspect as well as an eerie blue glow. The very _air_ seemed charged, tingling in my nose. It must be thanks to my rubber-soled sneakers – purchased because the extra traction made me less likely to slip – that I hadn't already been electrocuted…

Half-hypnotized by the currents snaking over every visible surface, I jumped when a soft whimper reached my ears. _This must be the Bishop girl… _I inched closer, then reeled back as a fresh wave sparked through her and she screamed – a hair-raising howl of misery that sounded almost inhuman.

A heavy set of shackles on her wrists and ankles _clank_ed as she convulsed; their chains were bolted to the floor, a metal pathway for electricity. _This room was set up to torture her!_

My cry of horror alerted the girl to my presence and she lunged forward, hitting me with a stronger burst of lightning – which danced harmlessly over my skin. If I was protected from it by my shield, then it had to come from a person, probably her. But why did she keep electrocuting _herself_?

The second time she blasted me I was ready and blocked her. She crumpled and dragged me down too, her head ending up in my lap. Her petite frame shook with sobs, her tears dampened my jeans, and I was completely lost as to what to do next. I ran a hand over her fair hair – which had the greasy feel of needing to be washed – and murmured, "There, there," although I felt foolish doing so. She probably wasn't listening anyway.

"Would…you quit s-saying that?" she rasped as soon as she was able to speak. "Sounds…stupid."

Out of habit, I apologized. "I didn't think it mattered since you didn't seem to be paying attention."

The electric blonde worked her manacled arms underneath herself to push up out of my lap; they trembled as if taking her weight was a strain. She crab-walked backward and curled into a ball, her muscles still twitching spastically.

"You all right?" Her hand shot out, open palm toward me in a gesture I recognized. "That's not going to work," I said coolly. "What're you trying to attack me for? All I did was ask if you're okay!"

Her lips pulled back in a snarl, teeth bared like a rabid animal's. "I've been in agony every minute of every day for _weeks_; I spent all that time hoping I'd just die so the pain would stop! _Do I freaking look all right?_"

"Honestly? No, you look like crap."

She opened her mouth to retort, but I turned away before she could. I really was in no mood for verbal sparring with this girl.

"Sorry," she said after a tense moment. The word came out hard and abrupt; saying it was an effort for her. "It's just that I can't remember the last time somebody asked if I was all right, if anyone ever did. Nobody's been that nice to me in a long time." Her voice cracked near the end.

I shoved down a stab of pity, not ready to let her screaming at me go just yet. "Maybe people would be nicer to you if you weren't such a jerk."

"Well geez, I said I'm sorry!" she stormed, her temper flaring up like a live wire. "What do you want – a formal letter? You'd be bitchy too if you went through what I have!"

"Which is what, exactly? All this-" I indicated the metal room and shackles "-was it set up just to make you electrocute yourself? And why? What's the point-?"

"Hell if I know! I came here for help, and instead they put me down here and left me to rot!" The girl's head dropped to her knees, her entire body seeming to deflate as her anger waned. "I don't even like you, but this conversation's the best thing that's happened to me since…" Her face took on a guarded look as if she thought she'd said too much.

I snickered. "Funny – I was just thinking the same thing. About how talking to you has been the best part of my day so far, I mean, although I have to say I'm not sure I like you either. Right now I kinda think not; it's just that-"

"There's no one else to talk to," she finished.

"Yeah."

We lapsed into a morose silence, during which I reflected on how awful my circumstances had to be to make me grateful for this girl's company even though she was too confrontational and belligerent for my liking. Also, her attitude toward me shifted so fast that I wondered whether the weeks she'd spent alone and in constant pain had unhinged her a little…or a lot.

"So…if we're stuck with each other, I might as well know what to call you. You have a name?"

Refusing to answer never crossed my mind – there was no point in provoking my temperamental cellmate. "Yeah, Bella Swan."

"I'm Elle Bishop."

"Nice meeting you." We shook hands, rattling Elle's chains; leaning toward her, I accidentally put weight on my bad foot. "Ouch!"

"What's wrong?"

"Sprained ankle," I grunted. Elle pulled the injured leg out in front of me and began untying my shoe. "What are you doing?"

"Taking a look at it. Don't worry, I've had first aid training; in my old job you never knew when you'd need it. Just a min- Hold still!" she admonished as my leg jerked.

"It hurts!"

I thought I saw Elle roll her eyes, though it was too dark to be sure. "Quit being such a baby. It'll feel better once – there, got it." She removed both my shoe and sock in one swift move, then pushed up my pants' leg. "Holy crap!"

"What? How bad is it?"

"Your ankle's all red and swollen-" She prodded it, making me whimper "-and hot. How'd this happen?"

"Knox," I bitterly explained. "He and Flint brought me here in a helicopter after kidnapping me right out of my own _bedroom_, and my foot caught on a step. When I stumbled, Knox pulled me inside faster than I could get it out."

Elle winced. "_Knox_ – I _hate _that bastard. He's the one that put these chains on me…but Arthur Petrelli gave the order. I hate him too. If I ever get out of here…" Her hands clenched, no doubt as she imagined wrapping them around Arthur's throat.

"You'll have to give me a minute with him first," I growled. Elle glanced up in surprise.

Looking at me reminded her that she was supposed to be doctoring my ankle; she shuffled to a back corner near the sink and toilet, returning with a glass of ice water. She fished the ice cubes out and stuffed them into my sock, which she tied around my ankle as a makeshift compress. "That's the best I can do for now; I think maybe you're supposed to prop it up too."

"Prop it up _how_?"

Minutes later I lay on the floor with my left leg draped over the toilet lid and arms crossed behind my head in a futile attempt to get comfortable. Closing my eyes, I tried to doze off so I could be unaware of the numerous aches and pains in every part of me – a wasted effort. When I stopped thinking my mind just turned to other things: my throbbing ankle, the cold, hard steel against my back, the soreness in my cheek and right upper arm where Arthur had struck me and where he and Knox both had dug their fingers in while jerking me around…

…And one last pain so severe that I welcomed all the others as a distraction from it. Worse than any physical wound, there was that feeling of being stabbed through the heart every time I thought of what I'd lost today: my freedom, my home, the people I loved who made it home – Charlie, Claire, and…and Peter.

_Arthur said he'd make sure Peter and I are never together again… Well, that ought to please Charlie, unless Arthur's plan for keeping me away from Peter is to kill me or leave me in this coffin of a cell forever. _That was a very real possibility because as long as I had the energy to beef up my shield, Peter would never find me here. If he didn't, my chances of escape were less than zero – they were a negative number if that was possible.

_But if he comes for me it'll turn into a fight with his father, who'll kill him! Or at least take his powers – that can't happen. Peter has some dangerous abilities, and I'd hate to see what Arthur might do with them. _Just thinking about it made me shudder. _Still, Peter's gotta know I'm gone by now and after seeing the mess Knox and Flint made of my room he'll know I didn't leave on my own. Not being able to find where I am, to help me or even know if I'm still alive must be tearing him up… _

I turned my face to the wall so Elle wouldn't see the tears I couldn't hold back anymore. Realizing what Peter must be going through was the last straw; his pain hurt me worse than my own. His pain, my pain – it was too much. I couldn't deal with it, couldn't do anything except lie here, hurting more than one person should be able to.

###

"Bella. Hey Bella, you awake?"

I pretended not to hear Elle until she poked me; only then did I force my eyelids open. "What?" I grumbled.

"Why'd you say I'd have to give you a minute with Arthur Petrelli before I fry his ass?"

"Why are you asking me that?"

Elle shrugged. "That was all I could think of."

"Then why'd you say _anything_?"

"It got really quiet in here. I've been alone so long… I just don't like it too quiet." She ducked her head, embarrassed.

I groaned inwardly; she just had to say something that'd make me feel sympathetic enough to talk to her, didn't she? "I said that because Arthur Petrelli took something from me and I want it back."

"What was it? If he takes your powers he can't give them back, you know."

"Yeah, but he hasn't taken mine. Remember how you stopped zapping the room after I came in? That was me."

"How?"

"It's hard to describe but I'll try… I can sense abilities, and once I sense them I can block them. But my favorite part's the one I call my 'shield' that makes getting into my mind impossible."

Elle seemed impressed. "That's really cool!"

"It's great – most of the time. Ironically, this isn't one of those times."

"Where's the irony?"

I grimaced. "The irony is that without this shield, my boyfriend would be able to find and rescue me. And because I can control it, it's really my own fault I'm still buried down here."

"You mean you could get out if you let this guy find you? Why the hell don't you?"

"Because…" For some reason I hesitated. It wasn't _exactly_ that I mistrusted Elle, but neither did I know much about her. We'd only become friends – at least for the time being – because we were locked up together and getting along was easier than fighting. I doubted we would have in a position where we had any choice in the matter, so I decided I'd give her an abridged version of events. "Because I think Arthur kinda has it in for him."

Elle's obviously unsatisfied curiosity necessitated a little elaboration. "They had a run-in some time ago and Arthur tried to take his powers, but he got away and-" I threw in a nonchalant shrug "-Arthur seems like the grudge-holding type."

"Okaaay," Elle said slowly. "Are you stupid or something?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're a prisoner here because some guy _might_ get hurt breaking you out? Why not just let him do it? That way maybe he'd keep Petrelli distracted long enough for you to get away!"

My hand flashed out sans conscious instruction, striking her cheek hard. "_What is wrong with you? _I'm not having someone I love die for me! What kind of person does that?"

"You don't know he'd get killed," Elle argued. "And if you stay here, maybe you will."

"Better me than him," I retorted.

That shut Elle up temporarily. When she spoke again, her tone was amazed instead of angry. "You must love this boyfriend of yours a lot."

"Yeah, I do." I made myself look at Elle again and saw that she looked confused. "Don't you know what that's like?" I asked her. "Really caring about someone – so much that you'd rather be hurt yourself than see anything happen to them – haven't you ever felt that way about anyone?"

She thought long and hard, nibbling her lip and frowning. At last she said, "No, I guess not. Once I…I think maybe I almost did-"

"So you _do_ know where I'm coming from."

"No, Bella, I don't! Yeah, there was someone I had feelings for, oh, a year ago now, I think. But when push came to shove I didn't care about him enough to save him if it meant getting myself in trouble!"

I scrambled upright, ignoring a dull ache in my ice-numbed ankle. It seemed that I was on the brink of discovering something important about my cellmate, and I couldn't engage in meaningful conversation with one leg over a toilet. "What are you talking about, Elle?"

For one moment her face was an open book; I could see her indecision while she considered explaining but then, just as I was thinking maybe she was really going to open up to me, her eyes hardened and I knew she'd decided not to. Her walls were up again.

"You're not gonna tell me anything, are you?"

"Why would I? I've never told anyone about this, and there're other people I've known a lot longer than _you_."

"And you don't trust me. Fair enough, I guess. I don't know that I trust you either."

Elle nodded – seriously or mockingly? "Good for you, Bella. You shouldn't."

Ice filled my stomach. I'd seen her power for myself and knew that I would be charcoal right now if not for my shield's protection. Elle Bishop was deadly, all right, but when had knowing someone was dangerous ever been enough to keep me away from them? Despite my better judgment, I already felt a sense of camaraderie with her. She was an ally if not a friend; we were after all in the same predicament.

"Maybe not – maybe _you're_ right not to trust _me_. But right now you seem like the most trustworthy person in the building."

"Gee thanks, Bella," she said sarcastically. "That really means a lot considering who _else_ is in this building."

We didn't talk much after that. Elle lay down with an arm under her head and twitched around a bit, then became still, probably asleep. "Elle?" I asked softly. She didn't respond – definitely asleep, then. Should _she be sleeping? Is it nighttime? _I instinctively looked around our cell, which of course provided no clue as to the time of day, being underground.

With a sigh of frustration I gave up trying to determine the hour and threw my left leg back over the toilet; my ankle hurt again. The ice had long since melted, but I left the wet sock in place as a bandage. It was bearable, not comfortable; blacking out for a while seemed appealing. I shut my eyes, concentrating on taking slow, deep breaths and relaxing as much as I was able. Sleep, however, eluded me.

The gaping void that missing Peter created in my chest chewed at me like some vicious creature crouched inside my ribcage. It was as bad as my zombie months, only worse because I knew he was feeling the same right now; he still loved me and had no _distractions_, unlike a certain vampire I hardly ever bothered to think of anymore.

On the rare occasion that I did – now, for instance – it just made me angry, especially when I compared the perfect Cullen family to who Peter got stuck with: stinking Arthur! I hoped he never found out about whatever his father would do to me; it was sure to cause him more pain no matter how many skeletons he'd already dug out of the family closet…

###

Depressing thoughts spiraled dizzily through my brain for hours without getting anywhere, until at long last they were interrupted by the cell's door creaking open. Elle and I sat up, blinking up at the man silhouetted in the doorway.

"Knox!" Elle exclaimed, furious, but then the man spoke, and his voice wasn't Knox's.

"Isabella Swan?"

"That's me," I said tersely, trying to keep my bad leg from trembling as I stood.

"You're coming with me, Swan. Dr. Suresh is ready for you."

**So… what do the Elle fans out there think? I'm waiting (nervously) to hear your opinions!**


	31. Gods and Insects

**HERE'S the chapter with Mohinder, finally! (I'm happy about getting to him because he has an ability now and he's a mutant – mutants are fun.) **

Chapter 31: Gods and Insects

The man escorting me was clearly a run-of-the-mill security guard, and as such probably not in possession of any important information; I didn't bother asking him anything during our long elevator ride. Nor did he ever speak to me. He did shoot me the occasional sidelong glance, which I ignored after failing to decipher the emotion in his eyes – was it regret, pity, or fear that I saw there? Nothing that made me feel any better about this 'Dr. Suresh' person I was being taken to, that was for sure.

We disembarked on level six, where the science department was located. It resembled the subterranean prison level I'd just left more than the top floor's opulent offices, windows and better lighting notwithstanding.

Dr. Suresh's lab was equipped with several computers, a complex setup of test tubes, and an examination table surrounded by at least a dozen monitors whose purpose I couldn't begin to fathom. Security Guy led me to the table, but I dug my heels in after catching sight of its ominous-looking restraints. If he got those on me I'd barely be able to move – no way was I letting him!

"C'mon, get on the table already," Security Guy snarled, taken aback because I hadn't struggled before and irritated that I was now.

"Like hell I will!" I smashed the heel of my hand upward into his nose the way Peter had taught me, stunned when the man actually yelled in pain and released me. Astonishment quickly gave way to nausea as his blood spurted; I turned away and bent over the exam table, breathing through my mouth. _Sure is lucky I haven't eaten in…hmm, a long time. _Realizing I didn't know how long it'd been since I'd had any food, how long I'd been here, or even where _here_ really was disturbed me but before I could get too worked up over it, a new voice distracted me.

"What's this ruckus? I heard shouting…?" Judging by the foreign accent, it seemed safe to assume that this was Dr. Suresh.

Security Guy answered, his speech impeded due to the blow I'd dealt him. "Dis bitch hit be! I dink by dose is broken!"

Dr. Suresh raised a dark eyebrow. "Then I suggest you seek medical attention; I'll manage Subject Six by myself."

"Whaddever do say." Security Guy shuffled out, throwing me one last glare which I ignored in favor of keeping my attention on the doctor. Something about him made me wary and set my teeth on edge at the same time; I just couldn't quite put my finger on what. It became clearer as he stalked toward me – his movements were predatory, like Laurent's had been when he attacked me outside the Cullen house.

Walking backward in order to keep my eyes on him, I succeeded in putting the examination table between us. "Dr. Suresh, right? Look, Doctor, I have a pretty good idea what I'm here for and I gotta say, I'm not interested in being one of your test subjects." My back hit another table which held unidentified miscellaneous items; I groped through them for anything that could be used as a weapon while the doctor was talking.

"I understand that, and I'm sorry for what I have to do to you," he said earnestly. That threw me – he _did_ sound remorseful.

"Then don't do it," I suggested.

"I have to," Suresh repeated, still inching closer. "If it weren't necessary…but it is. I have no choice!" He lunged forward, and I realized belatedly that my own ploy had been used against me – distracted by what he was saying, I had let him get too close. Still, I'd been prepared for him grabbing me – as he'd very obviously intended to do once I was within his reach – and stabbed the hypodermic needle I'd picked up into his outstretched arm.

He jerked back, giving me just enough room to slip past him; then I sprinted across the lab to the door – which was locked. "Dammit!" I shouted, looking frantically around for a keycard or something, anything, I could use to open that door.

Suddenly a dark shape landed in front of me – Suresh! My gaze snapped to the spot where I'd last seen him, confirming my impression that the distance was too great for him to have cleared in a single leap – not that he should have been able to jump over my head like he had anyway. "What the- How did you-?"

Dr. Suresh crossed the space remaining between us so fast my eyes couldn't track him and caught me, his grip like a steel clamp on my shoulders. "I wish you hadn't done that." His voice was empty of remorse and compassion now. Wrapping one arm around my waist, he leaped across the lab _for the second time _and slammed me down on the examination table.

Metal crashed against the back of my head, rendering me too dazed to resist as he fastened restraints onto my wrists and ankles, above my kneecaps, and across my chest and stomach. I pulled at them once my head cleared only to find that I'd been right in thinking these straps would almost completely immobilize me. There was nothing holding my head in place, so I could still move that; unfortunately, it was _all _I could move.

"What're you gonna do to me?" Dr. Suresh had turned his back my way, blocking my view of whatever he was fiddling with at his test tube rack.

He spun to face me and held up a syringe filled with a light red liquid too watery to be blood. "I'm going to inject you with this formula and an adrenaline booster," he informed me, "and then I'm going to monitor your vitals. And, on the off chance that you're the first subject not to experience an adverse reaction after about seven hours, I'll take you apart and examine you molecule by molecule."

I gulped. "Um, you mean that figuratively, right?"

"Not really," Suresh said flatly; I searched his face for signs that he was joking and found none.

I let my head fall back on the metal slab as he approached, not wanting to watch any more of his strange gait than I had to. Dr. Suresh moved fast enough, with such a predatory air, that I'd think he was a vampire if not for his dark skin and one other, less definite observation. Besides everything else, his movements were jerky, twitchy, almost reminiscent of an insect's. I thought that was the word I was looking for – Dr. Suresh had a creepy insect-like quality like nothing I'd ever seen in vampires, werewolves, or humans. He was an entirely different thing and, whatever he was, he frightened me.

A sharp prick in my arm drew my eyes to where I'd felt my skin penetrated. After withdrawing the first needle, Dr. Suresh pulled my shirt down so he could give me the second injection in my chest, close to my heart.

The effect was instantaneous: every muscle in me tensed, curving my spine into an arc and throwing me against the restraints, my heart pounded like a jackhammer, sweat broke out all over my body, and my mouth went dry. I tried to relax but couldn't – exerting any measure of control over my own body was beyond me. Blind panic took over, and thanks to that extra adrenaline I was able to thrash around in spite of the straps holding me on the table.

Dr. Suresh's hand pushed me down hard – my back would be one big bruise in a few hours – and tried to hold my head still, but for once I was too fast. I jerked sideways out of his grasp, then twisted and snapped my jaws shut on his latex-gloved hand. He roared in shock and pain as he ripped it out of my mouth – I'd bitten through his glove – then made another, more successful grab for my chin and slammed my head back, banging my skull on the steel table. White lights popped in front of my eyes and then disappeared along with everything else into blackness.

###

The first thing I registered when I came to was Arthur Petrelli's angry voice, issuing from somewhere above. _Either he's God now, _I thought hazily, _or I'm lying on something that he's standing right next to. And he sounds mad. Maybe he won't notice if I pretend I'm still out._ To my great relief he didn't, being too busy scolding someone for beating me up although he only objected out of concern that my being knocked out would mess up the data collected from monitoring my brain waves.

When he paused for breath Dr. Suresh's voice replied, "I've examined Subject Six carefully and found no concussion, no damage at all besides some contusions and a crudely-treated sprained ankle – nothing that would make her an unfit test subject. It looks worse than it is."

Arthur seemed reassured; at least he sounded calmer when he said, "Well, that's a stroke of luck. I hate to think you'd do anything to compromise this project, Doctor, especially since I know it's of particular importance to you." Was it my imagination, or was there something threatening in those words? I opened my eyes a slit so I could observe the men through my lashes.

Suresh's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Yes it is. I didn't mean to knock her out; I just had to do _something_, because she had a very strong reaction to the adrenaline shot! She bit me!" He showed Arthur his hand, which I guessed must have teeth marks…and something else. There seemed to be something else on Dr. Suresh's hand, but it dropped to his side before I got a good look. Perhaps my eyes were playing tricks on me; squinting through eyelashes was hardly the best vantage point.

I put it out of my mind until Arthur left and Suresh began checking the monitors that, I could only suppose, must be connected to me by the electrodes taped to my temples and various other places on my body. Then I noticed something interesting enough to make me speak up. "You're still wearing surgical gloves."

Dr. Suresh jumped, startled. "I hadn't realized you were awake."

"You're still wearing gloves even though you're not doing anything germ-sensitive right now – why is that, Dr. Suresh?" Clearly discomfited, he turned away. "When you showed Arthur where I bit you I thought I saw something on your hand," I persisted. "And I must have, because why else would you wear those gloves all the time? What-?"

"All right!" Dr. Suresh whirled on me, furious; I flinched. "_This_ is what I'm covering up!" He tore his glove off and stuck his hand right under my nose, where I got an eyeful of his scaly lesions and the stringy, sticky-looking, spider-web-like substance clinging to his fingertips.

My stomach lurched at the sight. Feeling bile rise in my throat, I turned my head just in time to spit over the exam table's side. "What the…_hell_… is that?" I gasped, unable to decide whether my horror or revulsion was stronger.

"It's the reason I'm working on Arthur Petrelli's project. I injected myself with an unstable, flawed formula and now I'm suffering the consequences."

A terrible suspicion dawned on me; I steeled myself and asked, "Um, Dr. Suresh, this 'flawed formula' that gave you those sores…it's not by any chance similar to what you put in _me_…is it?"

Suresh's gaze dropped to his feet. "Since joining Pinehearst I've had access to more equipment and Arthur's previous findings-"

_"Is it the same formula?"_

"Essentially, yes."

"You- you-" I searched for a bad enough insult and came up empty. "You gave that to me after what it did to you? And I'm you sixth subject – where're the first five now?"

Still studying his shoes, Dr. Suresh mumbled something indistinct.

His inability to give a straight answer convinced me of the worst. I blurted, "They all died, didn't they?" though that hadn't even occurred to me before the words passed my lips. Once they were out they hung between us like a heavy mist, thickening the air till it was hard to breathe.

"Yes," he whispered. "No matter what I try, the serum's proteins won't bind correctly to the enzymes produced by the subjects' adrenals and- and then this happens." He indicated his scaled hand.

I shook my head, fighting an impulse to vomit again. "You did that to other _people_… How can you sleep at night?"

"Not very well, I assure you," Dr. Suresh said coldly. "You think I get any pleasure out of this? I know I'm a monster, but what else can I do? I don't wanna die!"

"Neither do I, for all the good that does! Even if I survive I'll still be a scaly bug person-" Fear closed my throat, strangling me. "Why are you doing this to me?" I choked out. "You're scared, I understand that, but making someone else pay for your mistake… What gives you the right?"

Dr. Suresh, though clearly ashamed, defended his actions by saying that human testing on anyone other than himself wasn't his idea. "All my subjects were provided by Arthur – I just gave the formula to whoever he brought in-"

"Like me." I had to hand it to him, his plan for breaking me and Peter up was pretty much foolproof – I'd either die or become so hideous that he wouldn't want anything to do with me; an imaginary knife twisted in my heart. _Well, I _did _dream of being a monster once – guess I'm getting what I wanted! Should've been more careful what I wished for…_ I felt my tears pooling and blinked them away, not wanting to cry in front of Suresh.

I continued talking in a desperate effort to distract myself. "So Arthur's supplying your subjects. He hasn't taken the serum too, has he?"

"No, of course not."

"Then why's he putting himself out trying to get it right? Capturing people for you to test on, all this lab stuff – it's gotta be expensive, not the kind of project you take up on a whim. Call me bitter after getting this-" I turned my bruised cheek to Dr. Suresh "-from him but I doubt Arthur Petrelli would go to all this trouble just to cure you out of the goodness of his heart."

Dr. Suresh said nothing; I looked at him and saw that his brow was creased, tongue between his teeth, eyes troubled. Sensing that I was getting to him, I pressed on. "In fact, I don't even think you can be sure Arthur _will _let you have the cure if you manage to make it. He must have other plans for this formula – what are they? What does he want it for?"

"What else does he- I-I haven't really thought," he muttered, rubbing his forehead. "All my concentration has been on trying to perfect the formula in the hope that a corrected version could get me back to normal and I never asked what Arthur's motivation for providing me with the resources to do so might be… Do you think it's something very bad?"

I thought of all the pain and terror I'd been through because of Arthur Petrelli, everyone else he'd hurt, what he'd tried to do to Peter and balled my fists so tightly that blood welled up where my nails cut into my palms. "I think he doesn't deserve the benefit of any doubt whatsoever. And the means he's willing to use to get what he wants are so…_monstrous_… If there's anything at all left of your conscience, you might want to know what end it is you're working toward."

Dr. Suresh left, giving no hint of whether he believed me other than a slight frown. I wasn't sure I believed myself; everything I'd said had been invented on the spot. It made perfect sense when I stopped to think about it, but it was made up mostly because I knew intuitively that Suresh was the brain on this project and that he still had a shred of decency in him – maybe not enough to override his fear and self-preservation instincts, but enough that he was uncomfortable with what Arthur was having him do – enough for me to use.

Now that I'd been injected – _infected_ – my death certificate was as good as signed; not knowing how much time I had left, I was determined to use that time to strike back at Arthur any way I could, even if I could do no more than turn his scientist against him. If my stoking Suresh's moral qualms gave him pause enough to slow completion of Arthur's pet project – maybe even persuade him to quit altogether – I would be happy.

_Goodbye Peter, Claire; I love you both. I never said this in so many words, but I hope you know that meeting you changed me for the better. Because this time if I can't save myself, I'm not going down without a fight. _

**Could you please tell me whether that ending's too out of character? I know Bella's not usually one to put up a fight – Peter and Claire **_**are **_**though. Am I wrong in thinking she could pick stuff up from them? Of course I also like writing Bella a bit tougher than she was in canon (her damsel in distress aspect made parts of the story rather annoying for me) and I think Claire's the perfect best friend for her to learn that from. **


	32. Exit Strategy

**There are a couple of characters from Heroes mentioned in this chapter but not named – can anyone guess who they are? If you can I'll give you a prize! Okay, not really, but I'll give you a preview of ch33.**

Chapter 32: Exit Strategy

I knew, logically, that time must be passing – I was almost certain it grew darker outside every time I glanced at the window – but, left alone with nothing but the machines' continuous soft beeps to listen to, I was unable to keep track of it.

Dr. Suresh didn't come back; Arthur Petrelli, on the other hand, returned three different times. I suspected he was checking to see whether I'd started mutating yet, though he never did anything more than stand beside the infernal slab I was strapped down on and scrutinize me so intently that, even without looking at him, I could feel his eyes boring into me. Each time he did this I stayed still as a statue, maintaining a charade of unconsciousness. The only alternative to this was screaming at him to go away – he'd already gotten what he wanted, so did he _really_ have to hang around and _stare_ at me?

_I bet he knows I'm awake and that his staring drives me nuts, and he's doing it on purpose. As if he hasn't done enough, now he's trying to make me insane too… _

Ms. Strauss stood beside me, talking quietly to someone – but hadn't Arthur been there a second ago? I peeked through my lashes and was disconcerted to see that the lab's light had changed from natural to artificial. Night had obviously fallen while I was too busy brooding over my violent dislike of Arthur to notice.

When Ms. Strauss's companion finally spoke, I risked opening my eyes a tiny bit wider to get a look at him and saw a dark-haired man in a suit. He was strangely familiar; I felt like I should know him from somewhere but was sure I'd never met him before. "Why's Suresh testing the serum on that girl, Tracy? She's just a kid!"

"Arthur told him to," Tracy Strauss replied with a shrug.

"For Pete's sakes, _why_? She can't be more than nineteen, if that – there's no way we're administering the formula to anyone that young. It's strictly for military use, right?"

"That's the plan."

Tracy exited the lab soon after and took the man with her, leaving me to muse on what I'd overheard. At least now I understood that Arthur was interested in the formula because of the money that could be made selling it to the military; what I didn't understand was why the military would want it. _An army of mutant soldiers doesn't sound very useful – but Dr. Suresh said his mutations were the result of injecting himself with a _flawed _version. Maybe it'd do something else if he gets it right. So the question is, what could it do that would be any use to the army?_

I puzzled over this question until my brain hurt without coming up with a single satisfactory answer. Sometimes I tried to get a reprieve by falling asleep, but I never could. Whether it was an aftereffect of that adrenaline booster, my own anxiety over what the formula was doing to me at this very minute, or simply the uncomfortable position I was stuck in, I was always wide awake – no matter how desperate I was for sleep.

My tired eyes itched and burned, my stomach felt hollow, my muscles were cramped, and everything below my knees was mostly numb. Hell couldn't possibly be worse than this.

###

I heard Dr. Suresh's voice but couldn't summon the presence of mind to react or even pay attention to him until he shook my shoulder; then, not liking the feel of his scaly hand on me, I snapped out of my daze and tried to wriggle away. Of course I didn't succeed in budging an inch – still, he got the message and withdrew the offending hand.

"Sorry, I was merely trying to wake you up."

"I'm awake. You think I could sleep here?" I spoke as little as possible; every word stuck in my desiccated throat.

"I suppose not. Never mind that – we haven't got much time." He began unfastening my restraints.

"What are you-?"

Dr. Suresh talked over me, apparently to himself. "Arthur plans to use the formula to give dangerous abilities to whomever he thinks should have them. He insisted that it'll be well under control – _his_ control – but if I've learned one thing in the last year it's that these powers are never under control, never! Not to mention that playing God in that exact way is what got me where I am now…"

I slowly bent my stiff body into a sitting position and flexed my arms, my kinked muscles protesting every move. "So you've seen the light about Arthur – good. Why did you untie me?"

"Because I'd still be blindly following Arthur's insane plan if it wasn't for you – and because you have something I want."

"Which is…?"

Suresh pulled my arm out in front of me. "Seven hours and twenty minutes have passed without you developing any signs of infection. Somehow the formula's worked on you as it hasn't on anyone else."

"So…I'm not turning into a giant insect then?"

"It would appear not."

"And now you want to get me away from Arthur and run your own tests on me because you think that'll show you how to cure yourself," I guessed. Suresh squirmed. "Lucky me. You think maybe you can find a softer slab to strap me down on in _your _lab?"

"I'm not gonna strap you down anywhere-"

"Why don't I believe you?"

"Look, I know you have no reason to trust me but I promise I only want to cure myself, not hurt you!"

An escape plan began forming in my head, but I needed more information before I could put it into action. "Well," I said carefully, "I guess I don't have much choice in the matter. You're incredibly strong, and fast, and who knows what else you can do, so it looks like you'll get to run your tests whether I want you to or not. It's not like I can get away from you even if you don't tie me up."

"That's true," he admitted with a humorless chuckle. "It's ironic really – the formula that caused my mutation is the same one that gave me my strength and speed."

"I see… Did it give you anything else? Anything like, say, what Flint or Knox can do?" Deciding it would serve me best to play dumb I threw in, "I mean, Knox told me he gets strong off other people's fear – sounds totally unbelievable, I know, but he _did_ throw my bed across the room – and I _saw_ Flint Gordon shoot blue fire _from his fingers_! Do you do anything like that?"

"I could throw something as heavy as a bed, yes, but enhanced physical abilities are all I have. Nothing as flashy as pyrokinesis, I'm afraid."

_Which means Peter can handle you with one hand tied behind his back – and will, just as soon as you get me far enough away from Arthur. _A tiny part of me felt guilty for tricking Suresh, using him to facilitate my own escape and then leading him straight into an encounter with Peter, who just might not be very happy with him. The rest of me – the sore, stiff part – was seriously considering telling Peter all about how Suresh had tied me up, knocked me out, and given me that toxic formula. _I can imagine what he'd do then…_

Meanwhile, Dr. Suresh, completely unaware that I was contemplating having my all-powerful boyfriend use him as a punching bag, was cramming sealed tubes full of his serum and a piece of paper on which was diagrammed a chemical formula so complex that Mr. Banner's science classes were insufficient to make me understand it into a tote bag – which he then held out to me.

I didn't take it. "No thank you."

"Once I know why the serum didn't induce mutation in you, I'll need this to replicate it for myself!"

"Yeah, but why can't _you_ carry it?"

"Because I'll need my hands free in order to get us out of here."

This 'explanation' created more questions than it answered; I slung the bag over my shoulder and slowly said, "All right… How are we getting out again? I'm pretty sure we can't just walk out the front door."

"No, we can't – we're going out through the window."

"Through the window?" I repeated incredulously. "We're six stories up!"

"I'm aware of that. Don't worry – and hold on tight."

"Wha-?" Suresh whipped his lab coat off and wrapped it around his fist to muffle the noise as he punched through the window, knocking all the glass from its frame. Then he grabbed my elbow and swung me onto his back; my arms and legs automatically wrapped around him in a death-grip. "What are you doing?"

He leapt at the window – next thing I knew we were upside down, with him sticking to the building's outer wall Spider-Man style and me clinging to him for dear life as blood rushed to my head and the bag dangled over my shoulder. I bit my lip hard enough to make it bleed as Suresh crawled down the sheer surface at super-speed, then pushed off several yards above ground level – sending us sailing through the air so that we landed a good distance from the building. He hit the pavement running; with his speed, Pinehearst disappeared behind us before I'd so much as blinked.

I hoped he'd let me down once we were far enough away, but he either wanted to put distance between us and Pinehearst faster than I could go or didn't trust me not to run off if given the slightest opportunity – which admittedly I would. Just when I was beginning to worry about not being able to hold on much longer, he made one last impossible leap and stopped – not a moment too soon, as I lost my grip a half-second later and crashed to the floor.

Suresh offered me a hand up which I reluctantly accepted, though I couldn't repress a slight shudder. He immediately let go, looking dejected; I felt both relief and regret. That bothered me – after what Suresh had done, why on earth should I feel bad about hurting his _feelings_? I must be developing Stockholm Syndrome. As if I needed one more problem to deal with.

###

"This makes no sense!" Suresh – or Mohinder, as he'd said I should call him – punched the table, making his equipment jump. I flinched but said nothing, not wanting to draw his attention while he was angry. "I've analyzed practically every blood cell in the sample I took from you, but I can't find what caused the serum to work! Your genetic code looks no different from that of any other posthuman I've examined! The only noteworthy thing about you is that your DNA provides no information as to what you can actually do… What _can_ you do, Isabella?"

Sensing that I was about to be the target of a little misplaced aggression, I backed away. It was as much a wasted effort as trying to run from James in the ballet studio had been; Mohinder was as fast as any vampire and caught me before I'd gone three steps. "Tell me what you can do!" he shouted.

"Nothing that's got anything to do with your serum! I already had an ability when you injected me – it's just a really subtle one – I didn't even notice it for years-"

"You already had your power," Mohinder repeated, "and you didn't say anything! You tricked me! You shouldn't have done that." His open palm struck my chest; I flew across the room, hit the wall and landed on a table, breaking several test tubes and a large tank. I scrambled off the table, grazing my arms and hands on broken glass, just as Mohinder pounced again.

Instead of throwing me again, he dragged me deep into his lab, where he began plastering me to the wall with his sticky fingertip secretion. "Stop… Please, stop," I moaned weakly. Mohinder ignored me. "You don't…want to do this…" Still no response, but talking cleared my head, kept me conscious. The room wasn't spinning so fast anymore…

As the fog left my brain I tried to access my blocking ability – I was aware of it but couldn't quite focus enough to use it – until finally the last of my daze wore off. "I said, _stop_!"

Mohinder had only cocooned my right arm; I was able to pull it free relatively easily although bits of the web stuck to my skin. He tried to stop me leaving of course, but without his enhanced strength and speed we were more evenly matched. I punched him as hard as I could and ran – and ran, and ran.

I stumbled often and fell once or twice, but I forced myself to get up and keep moving until I'd put four blocks between me and Suresh's apartment. Then I collapsed, panting and shaking from exertion. My limbs felt like jelly, and black spots swam across my vision. Part of me was pleased – it would be a relief to not have to think or feel for a while – but a voice in the back of my mind spoke up, refusing to let me lose consciousness.

_You can't pass out in the middle of a street, Bella! Who knows what could happen to you if you do?_

"Shut up," I groaned. "I'm tired."

_So? You're out of Pinehearst, you've escaped from Suresh – and you're going to give up _now_? What happened to finding your way back to Peter and Claire? You're not giving up on them too, are you?_

"No, never." My voice came out stronger this time; I clawed my way up the wall at my back and leaned on it while I got my bearings. The good news was that I was in the downtown area of a large city – surely neither Mohinder nor Arthur would try abducting someone in a crowd this size. The bad news was that nothing I saw told me _which _city I was in. There was no way for me to figure out how far this was from Forks, and I had no money for a bus ticket anyway. I didn't even have change with which to use a payphone. "Great," I muttered. "So what am I supposed to do now?"

Nobody answered, not even the voice in my head which I'd decided was probably a hallucination brought on by lack of sleep. Near-starvation couldn't be helping either. At least I told myself that was it – after everything I'd been through, my mind wouldn't snap _now_, would it? I shivered and started walking.

Most of the people I passed didn't notice me at all; those who did took an automatic step back, as if they thought I was carrying some contagious disease. After checking myself over I understood why – I was a mess. Whatever gluey substance had been in that tank I'd landed on had soaked my right side and matted my hair, the shattered test tubes had covered my forearms in tiny cuts, the bruise on my face hadn't faded much, I still walked with a slight limp in spite of Mohinder bandaging my sprained ankle better than Elle had been able to, and my hands were bloody – mostly around my fingernails from pulling myself up using that brick wall, but punching Mohinder had also split the skin on all my right-hand knuckles.

Suddenly I had to bite back a laugh because, considering my current predicament, it really was absurd that looking so bedraggled should bother me. Maybe I _was _going crazy.

When the street I was on opened onto a plaza I stopped, unsure of which way I should go now. _Maybe I could sit down, just for a minute. _Exhaustion made it easy to convince myself that a few minutes wouldn't make any difference – after all, it wasn't as though my aimless wandering was getting me any closer to home.

I sat down on a fountain in the plaza's center, stared at its weird orange spiral sculpture, and tried fruitlessly to think what to do next. I thought Peter should have found me by now since I no longer had the energy to strengthen my shield past its norm, but he hadn't. Worry that something had happened to him gnawed at me – because that was the only thing that could keep him from searching for me, wasn't it? He wouldn't have just forgotten about me…would he? I remembered that bad things had a way of happening to Peter's girlfriends – maybe he hadn't been as shocked or upset by my disappearance as I'd thought.

Too miserable to move now, I curled up in a ball beside the fountain and cried until a voice interrupted me – a real one this time, not one in my head. "Excuse me, miss, you can't sleep here."

I looked up to see a heavyset man with a policeman's badge bending over me. _I'm about to be arrested for loitering? Great, just when I thought my night couldn't get any worse… _


	33. Trust Issues

**Congratulations to poisonedsecrets, Auxi, lizandzacfan, tigeruawish, I LOVE Sparkley Scars, silver eyed vampwolf, pixie freak, Marcus S Lazarus, Kalacyn, spicypepper10, MaRkEd-rOzA, twilight432, K 'n' K Productions (normal K), Raspberry Parfait, and ICorona23 for getting my challenge right!**

**Good news: this chapter is extra long and has more Heroes characters (the bad news is at the bottom.)**

Chapter 33: Trust Issues

Swallowing a groan as my muscles screamed in protest, I rose slowly to my feet. "I wasn't planning to sleep here, Officer, but if you want me to move, fine."

"It's getting late out – maybe you should go home," the cop suggested.

"Would if I could, Officer," I muttered.

"Ah… Is there some reason you can't go home?"

The pity in his face nettled me – I didn't want it even if maybe I needed it. "If you're thinking I ran away from home because somebody beats me up there it's not like that. I didn't run away, and I'd be happy to go back except that I don't have any money…and I don't know how to get there. I'm not sure where I am," I sheepishly admitted.

"You're on Kirby Plaza."

The name stirred something in my memory. "Kirby Plaza…that's in New York City, right?"

"Yeah, that's right."

_New York City! _My knees buckled and I sank back down onto the fountain's rim. "New York City… How am I going to get from here to Washington?" I asked no one in particular.

The cop, thinking I was talking to him, replied, "The same way you got here, maybe?"

I shook my head. "Can't – I really doubt the men that brought me here are gonna give me a ride back." I felt like crying again, but all my tears were spent.

"Wait a minute. Did someone leave you stranded here?"

"No, _I _left _them_. Ran away from them, actually."

The officer inhaled sharply. "Why? Did they do something to you?" I looked up warily, realizing I'd walked right into a quicksand pit. He read my expression and said firmly, "Miss, I'm a cop. If you've been hurt, you need to tell me about it."

My instincts agreed with him – Charlie had taught me to always report crimes to the police in the event I ever witnessed one – Flint and Knox, however, were not your regular criminals. Sending a cop after them would be tantamount to signing that cop's death warrant. "No – no, I can't, Officer, sorry."

He frowned, head turned slightly to one side, and I got a sudden headachy feeling of pressure building inside my skull. It wasn't a headache, though – this was how it felt when someone tried to read my mind. I stood and backed away. "Oh _great_, this is just what I need! Telepathic cops – what will they think of next?"

The pressure in my brain mounted as he probed harder. "How do you know I can read minds? Why can't I read yours?"

"No one can!" I gasped. "So would you please stop trying?" Instantly, the pressure vanished; the telepath caught me as I sagged in relief, sat me back on the fountain and took a seat beside me.

"Who are you?"

I scowled. "Considering that you just tried to nose around in my mind _and _gave me a headache, I think that question's mine."

"I'm Detective Matt Parkman. Now can I get your name?"

"I'm Bella Swan. Those guys I mentioned earlier kidnapped me, but you can't try to arrest them. As a telepath, I'm sure you understand why."

"Because they have dangerous powers," he guessed.

"_Very _dangerous."

"Well, you don't have to worry about them anymore." Detective Parkman got up and offered me his hand. "I'll protect you."

I didn't move. "Listen, Detective-"

"Call me Matt."

"Matt," I repeated. "Well, Matt, I was raised to believe cops are my friends and all, but you're clearly more than just a cop – and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that our kind don't have a lot of friends."

Matt smiled wryly. "I know what you mean, believe me, but not everyone's out to get you. You can trust me, Bella."

I searched Matt's face carefully; he looked honest enough. I took his hand and let him lead me away from Kirby Plaza.

###

We were barely inside the door of Matt's apartment when a red-and-blue blur streaked up to him; I blinked hard and the blurry thing resolved into a woman in a red shirt and blue jeans whose short platinum blonde hair was done in sharp-looking spikes. She gave Matt a brief but enthusiastic hug, then stepped back and said, "You're late. What kept you?"

Matt gestured to me by way of explanation. "This is Bella Swan – Bella, meet Daphne Millbrook."

I'd heard that name before, I felt sure, but my exhausted brain couldn't place it. "Hi," I murmured, giving Daphne a small wave and a shy smile.

She didn't return my smile. "And Bella Swan is here _why_?"

"I found her on Kirby Plaza; she's run away from some guys who kidnapped her, and I told her I'd keep her safe if they come after her again," Matt explained. "I'd go arrest the scumbags right now, except she won't tell me anything about them."

Daphne frowned. "Can't you just pull it out of her?"

"Already tried – that's the other reason I brought her with me. I can't read her mind, Daphne."

"Huh." She checked me over a second time, reappraising. "You look like you've been through the wringer. Can I get you anything – Band-Aid, some different clothes?"

Getting out of my filthy bloodstained clothes sounded wonderful, and there was no doubt that I needed several Band-Aids – there was, however, one thing I needed more. "Actually, what I really need is a phone. There're some people who are probably pretty worried about me…" …_Although Peter would've found me already if that was true, wouldn't he? Unless something's happened and he's in no position to find anyone… _Fear closed my throat, choking off my words.

Perhaps it showed on my face as well; Matt and Daphne were both staring curiously at me. "The phone?" I asked sharply.

"Down the hall to your left." Matt pointed.

"Thank you." I hurried down the hall, picked up the phone and started dialing. Eagerness and anxiety made my hands shake; I fumbled, nearly dropping the phone, then realized I'd messed up the digits' sequence. _Crap! _I hung up, tried again, and finally succeeded in dialing Peter's cell phone number. "C'mon, c'mon," I muttered, impatiently tapping my foot while waiting for a ring – which never came.

Instead a mechanical female voice informed me that, "The number you have reached has been disconnected. Please hang up and try again."

Slowly, I lowered the phone from my ear and hit the End Call button, my mind racing through possible explanations such as 'he could have his phone off, or not with him' – but the recording had said _disconnected_. If Peter had turned his phone off or left it somewhere, my call would've gone to voicemail, right? Disconnected meant it was no longer _working_, which could be solid evidence toward my 'he hasn't found me because he's in some kind of trouble' theory. Arthur had mentioned sending Flint and Knox back to Forks…

"Oh, God," I murmured, sliding down the wall. If they'd caught Peter, what was I going to do? But then I remembered something else: that Arthur wasn't after _Peter_. In fact, hadn't he said that Knox and Flint were only supposed to bring him Claire, and avoid involving Peter if possible? That was why they'd captured _me_ after all, because they had mistaken me for Claire – either they didn't know she was Peter's niece rather than his girlfriend, or they were just too dumb to tell the difference between her and me – which, in Flint's case at least, didn't sound all that unlikely.

So maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that Knox hadn't followed through on his threat to put a bullet in Peter's brain – but if he and Flint had gone back for Claire and caught her, then they might have ditched her phone… Realizing it was a long shot, I dialed Claire's cell, sucking in a sharp breath when it rang.

After about four rings someone picked up, but didn't say anything.

"…Claire?" I asked uncertainly.

The person on the other end gasped, then spoke – it was her. "_Bella_? Is that you?"

"Yeah."

"Is this some kind of joke?" Claire's voice sounded almost angry.

"Only if you think it's funny. Is Peter okay? I tried calling him first, and apparently his cell's been disconnected-"

"Never mind that," Claire interrupted. "Where are you?"

"Uh…hang on a sec." Covering the phone's speaker, I called, "Hey Matt, what's this apartment's address?" and then repeated his answer into the phone.

"Thanks; I'll send Peter to get you." The phone went dead.

Less than five minutes later, I heard a knock on the door. _That was fast._

"I'll get it," Matt called, but Daphne dashed to the door before he'd taken a single step. _A speedster…_ Again something niggled at the back of my memory, like an itch that was just out of reach. It was maddening, but I forgot all about it when I heard Peter reply to Daphne's greeting – largely because hearing his voice wiped everything else from my mind, but also because his reaction to Daphne was most unusual.

"_You_!" he exclaimed, pushing her back as he entered her and Matt's apartment and telekinetically slammed the door behind him.

Matt grabbed a skillet off the stove and, swinging it like a baseball bat, whacked Peter on the head, then shoved him against the wall, shouting, "You've got some nerve showing up here!"

Peter caught Matt's right hand - which Matt was wrapping around Peter's throat - and sent an electrical jolt through the policeman's body that knocked him to the floor. Then, while I stared open-mouthed, Daphne punched Peter on the nose and dodged his attempt at zapping her; unfortunately for her, he could move as fast as she could – he caught her by the wrist and-

"Stop, all of you!" I reinforced the order by negating the powers of everyone in the room.

"Bella?" Peter looked like he wanted to come closer but hung back, almost as though he was afraid I might disappear if he tried to touch me.

"It's me." I moved toward him but Matt seized my arm, holding me back. "Hey!"

"You can't trust him!"

"Let her go," Peter growled, somehow managing to look dangerous even without a fireball in hand.

"I'm doing her a favor keeping her away from you," Matt retorted. "You shot your own brother, you sent me to a desert in Africa-"

"No! He would never do that! Peter, tell him!"

"That wasn't me. Or it was, but it was my future self, not _me_ – Matt, you've gotta believe me."

"How can I when I can't read your mind? Wait, why can't I read your mind?"

"Bella, please give the man his telepathy back."

My face turned red – I _had _forgotten to remove my power block. I quickly did so, and Peter let Matt into his mind although he obviously enjoyed having his thoughts read about as much as I did. After a moment his shield popped back into place, pushing the telepath out. "Satisfied now?"

"Yeah. Closing your mind is new – you copy that from Bella?"

"Yes."

"She didn't mention being able to let anyone in." Matt glanced accusingly at me.

"That's 'cause she doesn't like to," Peter said drily. "She's kinda sensitive to having her mind fooled with." Turning to me he asked, "Bella, you ready to get out of here? Claire's waiting for us."

"Definitely." I couldn't wait to see my best friend again. "Matt, Daphne, thanks for all your help; it was nice meeting you."

"You too," Daphne said politely.

"Hey, wait a minute. You never told me the names of those creeps-"

I cut Matt off. "Those creeps aren't important. Peter will take me home, and I won't be seeing them again. Okay?"

Judging by Matt's frown it wasn't okay, but I turned away before he could argue and snaked my arms around Peter. "Let's go before Claire gets worried."

###

Peter staggered slightly, as if teleporting had thrown him off-balance. "Peter! What's wrong?"

"Nothing – I'm fine."

"You're not fine, you're exhausted," Claire countered; she pushed Peter down onto the couch and then enveloped me in a tight hug. "Bella Swan, you have got some explaining to do. First we find your house looking like a tornado went through it, and you've disappeared, and then you just pick up the phone and call me like it's no big deal – like we haven't been running in circles looking for you for the past three days-"

"Three days?" I repeated. "It's been _that long_?"

"It has," Peter confirmed.

I sat down beside him; my knees felt wobbly again. As I collapsed on the sofa, I noticed it wasn't the one from his and Claire's living room – in fact, we weren't _in _their living room. "Uh, guys…this isn't your house, is it?"

"Uh-uh."

"Then whose is it?"

"Mine." I turned toward the unfamiliar voice so fast I cricked my neck; the speaker was a dark-haired older woman in a navy wool skirt and jacket over a matching silk blouse. I jumped up, uncomfortable with sitting while she stood over me. She walked slowly forward, stopped when less than two feet remained between us – I backed away – and looked me up and down, sizing me up.

"Isabella Swan, I presume?" Though worded as a question, it came out more as a demand. My mouth went too dry for speech; I gulped and nodded. The woman pursed her lips and extended a hand with immaculately manicured scarlet nails. "I'm Angela Petrelli, and you're the young woman my son has spent the last three days searching for – not very successfully, I might add."

My discomfort mounted. I pulled my hand out of Angela Petrelli's grasp and watched her face cautiously, unsure what she wanted me to say. "I…ah…" I started when Peter's arm slid around my shoulders, not having noticed him get up.

"Yeah, she's never easy to track down." He pulled me close in…was it just an affectionate squeeze, or was there something protective in his embrace? Remembering what I'd heard about his mother, I pressed myself closer to him, suddenly hoping it was the latter. "But now that I've got her, I think I'll take her and Claire home now."

Claire nodded, looking relieved, and moved closer so Peter could put his free hand on her shoulder and…nothing happened. Peter let go of me and Claire with a frustrated sigh and took a step toward his mother. "Is the Haitian here somewhere?"

"Am I trying to prevent you leaving, you mean? I should – you vanish off the face of the earth for _months_, then you barge in accusing me of abducting your girlfriend-"

"Cut the crap, Mom," Peter said evenly. "You know perfectly well why I left, and why Claire and I suspected you when Bella went missing."

Angela held up a finger. "You shouldn't interrupt, dear. Before you did so, I was going to say that the Haitian isn't here; you've simply overused your powers trying to locate Isabella – burned yourself out. If you're determined to leave now I'm afraid you'll have to use a more conventional form of transportation. Of course you – and the girls – are also welcome to stay here tonight."

"No!"

"Claire…I think maybe we should."

She gaped at Peter in amazement. "Are you _freaking_ kidding me?"

"Claire, Bella's in no shape to fly coach; she's practically a dead girl walking!"

"So are you," I pointed out. "Or dead _guy_ walking at least."

Claire huffed angrily. "Fine – but just for the record, I think hanging around here is a _bad _idea."

###

The Petrelli mansion was _huge_ – so much so that the guest room Angela put me in had its own bathroom, which I was very grateful for – I needed a shower in the worst kind of way. Just as I finished toweling off and began wondering what I was supposed to wear to bed, someone rapped on the bathroom door. I told them to come in, hoping it wasn't Angela.

It wasn't; Claire entered, wearing pink satin pajamas and carrying what looked like another set of the same for me. "Here, Angela said you could wear these," she explained unnecessarily.

"Thanks." I took them from her, but instead of leaving she just stood there with her eyes fixed on me. "Umm," I began awkwardly; it wasn't like she and I had never seen each other change clothes before – it was unavoidable when I slept over at her house so often – but we didn't usually stand around and _watch _each other do it.

Abruptly, she asked, "Why couldn't Peter ever find you? He tried to the whole time you were gone, but he never got _anything_. We thought that you had…that you were…well…dead." Her eyes teared up as she whispered the last word.

"Part of it was my fault – I couldn't have you and Peter coming after me, so I channeled more energy than usual into my shield. That made it strong enough that his precog powers and clairvoyance couldn't get a lock on me."

Claire shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense, Bella. You know whatever kind of trouble you were in, we would've helped you."

"I know. That's the problem." Claire opened her mouth to protest, but I headed her off. "Look, I'm really tired – can we _please_ talk about this tomorrow?"

"Okay," she reluctantly agreed. "But don't think I'll forget. I won't."

"Of course you won't," I said wearily. "I'll explain everything in the morning – promise."

Claire left then, while I exchanged my towel for the pajamas and, not bothering to blow-dry my hair, switched off the bathroom light, crossed the adjoining bedroom, shut and locked the door, and turned around to see Peter sitting on the foot of my bed – where I was sure he hadn't been when I passed that bed a second ago.

It was a mark of how truly dead on my feet I was that his sudden appearance didn't make me jump a foot in the air. Instead I just said, "Thought your powers were supposed to be all tapped out."

He shrugged. "Turning invisible doesn't take quite as much energy as teleporting and taking two other people with me."

"Why'd you do it? Were you eavesdropping on what I said to Claire?"

"Overheard it, yeah," he said unapologetically, "but I wasn't trying to. I was just waiting for you."

A smile spread slowly over my face. "Really? And why would that be?"

Peter pulled me down beside him and asked, "Why do you think?" but covered my mouth with his before I could reply.

Our kisses started out slow and gentle but quickly became intense, hard – after our time apart, trying to keep it slow was as impossible as trying not to gulp water after a long hike in the desert. It was such a relief to be with him again, especially since he hadn't had to fight his father for me to get here – imagining that sent a chill through my body. I shivered, and of course he noticed and rubbed my arm in an effort to warm me up, although the room wasn't chilly in the least. "Bella, you okay?"

I made myself smile and brushed my lips over his. "You're here, aren't you? I'm better than okay." In spite of my reassurance, he still seemed concerned; obviously I needed to distract him. I sank back onto the mattress, pulling him down so that he was leaning over me.

He kissed me once more, then pried my hands loose, disentangled himself and sat up. Frowning now, I sat up as well and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey…"

Peter pulled back, holding me at arm's-length when I tried to get close again. "Hey, what gives?" I complained.

"Your mind's somewhere else right now – you tell me what gives." I dropped my eyes from his, chewing the inside of my cheek. He pressed on. "Tell me what you're thinking about, Bella."

Realizing that he wasn't about to be put off but still not wanting to bring up Pinehearst, I settled on something else that had been bothering me a little. "You – more specifically, why you didn't come get me until I called you. Couldn't you have found me sooner…if you really were looking?"

He inhaled sharply. "You think I wasn't looking for you? Of course I was! I burned out my powers and damn near drove myself crazy trying to find you, but I never could! From what you told Claire – the stuff with your shield – it sounds like you didn't _want _me to. Care to explain that?"

"Yeah, I- I did punch up my shield for a while so you couldn't. But I quit doing that way before Matt let me use his phone-"

"But why even do it in the first place? What happened to you?"

This was the part of our reunion I'd been dreading – the part where he'd demand the information I really didn't want to give him. "These guys...broke in and made me leave with them," was my purposefully vague answer.

"I'd already figured that out – the busted door was kind of a dead giveaway. Can you tell me who 'these guys' were?"

"Umm…"

"Can you tell me or not?" he asked again, more forcefully this time.

"I'd…rather…not," I said haltingly.

"Why not?"

My eyes roved over the carpet, the wallpaper, the bed we sat on – anywhere except Peter's face. I knew I couldn't withstand his searching gaze for long before I caved and told him whatever he wanted to know. He, of course, was wise to my evasion tactics and took my face between his hands, forcing me to look at him.

"Bella" was all he said – just my name, but it was enough to shatter my resistance.

"The men who kidnapped me," I began slowly, "are called Flint Gordon and Knox. Flint's a pyrokinetic, and Knox is a fear-feeder – it's like steroids for him. They were in Forks looking for Claire, but they mistook me for her after seeing us together in the Lodge's parking lot after graduation-"

"And they were sent by my father," Peter finished. I could feel his tension where his hands gripped my arms, and despite his calm tone I could hear the fury seething just beneath the surface.

I also felt a strange sensation, as if my stomach had dropped through the floor. "This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you about them; I knew you'd be angry, and I was afraid you might do something foolish…"

"Like going after those sons of bitches and taking their fucking heads off? 'Cause that's what I feel like doing." Peter turned my face so that the lamplight fell on my bruised cheek. "Which one of them did that to you?"

"Knox," I lied frantically.

"You're lying," he said immediately. "Who really-?" He drew in a sharp breath, the way someone did after getting punched in the gut. "_Arthur_?" he asked incredulously. "_He _hit you?"

"It was my fault, I made him mad…"

My words, intended to calm Peter down, only made him angrier. "That bastard," he muttered. "He's escaped consequences for a hell of a lot – all the stuff he did while he was in business with Linderman, ordering that hit on Nathan, trying to take my powers, throwing me out that damn window, forcing me and Claire to hide out in Forks – but what he did to you went too far. He won't get away with it, I promise you."

"Peter, what are you saying?"

"You know what I'm saying."

And I did – his intentions were written clearly in his eyes, which seemed somehow darker than normal, though maybe that was just the rage boiling behind them. "Peter, no! You can't do what I think you're thinking about doing! Arthur's too powerful-"

"Arthur's nothing I can't handle."

"It's not just his powers I'm worried about," I whispered. "Peter…no matter what Arthur Petrelli's done, he's still your father."

Peter shook his head. "No, Bella – the day he supposedly died, Nathan told me that I gave up on him a long time ago. He was right. Arthur hasn't been my father in a long time – he's a criminal, a…monster, and now he's hurt the girl I love. The world will be better off without him, and we definitely will – so I'm gonna take care of him, Bella. I'm going to kill him."

**Bad news: this is the last chapter – abrupt, I know. Here's the deal: I was already feeling like Resurgence has gotten way longer than intended, and the stuff I was going to get into in the next chap is fairly different from anything that's already been covered – enough so that it didn't feel like it belonged in the same story. So, please visit the new poll on my profile and help me decide what I should do with my ideas for possible continuation.**

**Everyone, thank you for making this my most popular fan-fic to date; I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.**


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